The One
by Kelsismom
Summary: FINAL CHAPTER UP! STORY COMPLETE. In tradition of The Letter and Dreams of You the stranger's life has taken a different path. Just a few days prior to meeting Lizzie, he considers a future with another woman. Does Lizzie stand a chance?
1. Chapter 1

Dear Frankie – Again!

**The One**

A/N: This story has references to "The Letter" and "Dreams of You" although it is not necessary to read those first. I don't own Dear Frankie or any of its original characters. A/U- this is yet another path for our beloved stranger. Begins prior to Patrick and Lizzie's first meeting at the coffeehouse. Also, there will probably be liberties I've taken with the story. Please read and review!

_"Everything that is happening, has ever happened, or will happen is happening right now." – Neale Donald Walsch, Conversations With God, book 3_

**Chapter 1**

Patrick Connelly held the delicate ring between his thumb and index finger. He wore a small smile and looked expectantly at his sister, Marie.

"It's a ring," Marie remarked, unimpressed, and quickly averted her eyes from it and her brother's gaze across the dining table. Instead she found it far more comforting to focus great attention on the cup of tea in front of her.

"Aye, it's a ring, Marie," he affirmed, his expression puzzled. Patrick couldn't help wonder about his sister's lack of enthusiasm.

Patrick watched as his sister purposely avoided his gaze. She seemed determined to stare out at the ocean, or down at the floor, or even to his dismay, at the bloody fly that had been buzzing around her flat for the last two days. He sighed as she gave him no response, and his frustration grew every second that she remained silent. To him, his own sister should at least pretend to be interested in something as significant as this.

"Marie? Don't ya have anything to say?" he asked trying to remain calm.

Marie met her brother's turquoise eyes, and even though she could see the excitement in them, it took all the strength she had to suppress the dread she was feeling. She gave him a weak smile and said brightly, "It's a lovely ring."

"And?"

"Is it her birthday already?" Marie asked coyly.

"No, Marie, it's not a birthday gift, it's a bloody engage…"

Marie cut him off, leaning forward with elbows on the table, her fingers exaggeratedly rubbing her now aching temples. "I know what kind of a ring it is, Patrick," she snapped. "I just don't want you to rush into anything…I mean, you don't even know if she's the one," her voice trailed off.

He let out a loud sigh and set the ring down slowly on the table. "She's the one."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Marie bit her lip and thought of every curse word in the English language, and even a couple in French that a sailor once taught her.

Her light blue eyes searched his, and she could see his hurt expression. She exhaled and took a sip of tea from her cup. "Does she love you, Patrick because you know, I think she's out…"

He interrupted, "Yah, Marie, I know you think she only cares about my money, but she loves me. Gretchen loves me."

Marie shuddered at the mention of her name. Gretchen. She was an absolute nightmare. One hundred seventy-two centimeters of legs, poofy blond hair, and large green eyes; she was a right cheeky bitch in Marie's opinion, and any kind of caring sister would not want this showy, manipulative woman engaged to her brother.

"Patrick, how do you know she doesn't marry you, divorce you, and then end up with half the business? I mean, you may be the brains behind our restaurants, but don't ya forget, that I'm the one who runs them."

His jaw was set in a line. "Nothing is going to happen to our restaurants, Marie." Patrick had known that Marie did not care for Gretchen but still he had hoped that she might be more supportive. He stood up from his chair and looked out at the comforting waves of the ocean. "You don't know her, Marie…"

Marie interrupted, "Oh, I know her, Patrick, she's selfish and stubborn…"

"I know how other people see her- how you see her. She's not that way to me. I know we've been off and on for years…but Gretchen knows me, really knows me."

Marie turned her face to the cool ocean waves he was looking upon. Maybe there she could find out what he truly saw in that woman. "There's more to a marriage than that, Patrick."

His turquoise eyes bore into hers, begging for understanding. "Gretchen was there for me, Marie, after Annabel died." His voice turned soft. "She's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Marie's eyes clouded up at the memory of Patrick's wife. Annabel had passed away after one year of marriage taking with her their unborn son. Marie wished that Annabel were still alive so that he could be happy- so that he could know his little boy. _And_, she couldn't help thinking, _would not have to be having this conversation_. Annabel and Patrick had been so in love. It was tragic that she had died so young and Patrick seemed not ever to get over her.

Clearing his throat, he announced, "Monday, on this cruise, I'm proposing to her. Yer just going to have to accept it."

Quietly Marie stood up and faced her younger brother. "Do you love Gretchen, Patrick?" He looked away from her and Marie shook her head. "Do you love her, Patrick?" she repeated.

"It's time, Marie. It's time for me to settle down."

"That's not a reason to get married, Patrick," Marie insisted.

"I said it's time, Marie, please just try to accept it and accept her."

Marie turned away from him, picked up her teacup from the table, and headed towards the kitchen.

Patrick hung his head as he wished things could be different. Patrick, of course, lived in the real world and realized that he had only truly loved another once in his life. He counted himself lucky for those years with his Annabel. Long ago, he'd given up on the idea of truly loving another woman. For now he decided that companionship was enough and that he and Gretchen could start a family.

On the cruise, during a romantic candlelit dinner, he would propose.

_Marie would learn to live with it_, he thought. Maybe someday in the future they would all laugh about it. But for now, he wasn't doing himself any favors beating himself up about it.

Patrick turned and headed towards the door with his hand bracing the doorknob when he remembered.

_Speaking of favors_, he thought. He turned around facing the direction of the kitchen and could hear the water running. Patrick took a breath and called out, "By the way, Marie, thanks for getting the inventory done. It was a huge load off my back. I owe you, sis. I owe ya big."

It was silent and Patrick no longer heard the sound of running water. Since no reply came, he decided Marie just needed some time to digest his news. He turned again and reached for the doorknob. "Anytime you need a favor, Marie, just let me know. Anything you want, I mean it."

She didn't miss a beat and peeked her head out of the entryway of the kitchen. Her face was bright and he could tell she was holding back a grin. "Anything, Patrick?"

* * *

Across from the table they sat again. Rather than siblings having a discussion, they looked more like businessmen dealing in intense negotiations.

"You said 'anything', Patrick."

"I know what I said, Marie, but this…you want me to meet this woman so she can beg me to be her son's dad."

"It's just for the day and she's not going to beg you."

"Marie, this is bad business, you shouldn't get mixed up with our employees," he told her shaking his head. "And neither should I."

"Oh, so _now_ yer the serious businessman, eh? Patrick, it's not going to kill you to meet her."

Patrick leaned back in his chair, wishing he could take back that inventory favor that Marie had done for him. Why would anyone ask someone to do this? Or better why would she ask _him_? Still, Marie _had_ spent two whole weekends along with Cindy, her other employee going through inventory at all three locations.

He exhaled and his shoulders slumped in defeat. The 'why' didn't matter, he knew. What mattered was that Patrick owed her, and that he owed her big.

"Gretchen's not going to like this."

Marie rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She couldn't give a damn what the cow did or didn't like. "Yer just going to meet Lizzie and talk to her, not propose to her."

Lizzie and her son, Frankie had recently moved to Glasgow and had just begun working in her shop. Marie liked them immediately, and what was odd, was that she trusted her. Marie hardly had any friends, and that's how she preferred it. But there was something about Lizzie; something that she saw in those haunted brown eyes. Marie had been fiercely independent for so long, putting off marriage and family, that something deep within her desperately craved the feeling of being needed. Lizzie needed a friend and Marie was more than happy to oblige.

"Just do me a favor, Marie. Next time I ask you to do me a favor, just say no."

* * *

Patrick stood outside the coffeehouse. He was five minutes early, and he couldn't help but ask himself for the hundredth time that day what he was doing there at all.

Nervously, he pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and read Marie's scrawled penmanship: _Meet Lizzie Morrison at 3:00_. He doublechecked the name of the coffeehouse to be sure he was in the right place.

Why did he feel like he was doing something wrong? Sure, today Gretchen was out of town on one of her many shopping sprees and he'd planned on sending her away to a weekend spa to prepare for their cruise. But he was just being nice. He wasn't doing anything wrong. This meeting meant nothing to him. He didn't even know this woman or besides Marie's vague description what she looked like. Gretchen definitely would not approve. Marie had not been entirely off the mark about Gretchen. She was a possessive woman and automatically would assume the worst. That's why Patrick would tell her that this was a favor for Marie, and that she was going to pay him for it. Yeah, somehow that made it better, but somewhere the nagging feeling in his stomach didn't agree. Maybe telling Gretchen wasn't such a good idea after all...

He took a breath and opened the door, walking in observing the patrons- keeping an eye out for a brown-haired woman, late twenties, big brown eyes. Step by step, he knew he came closer to finding her, the dread began to mount. Quickly he stuffed the note back into his pocket and felt his cigarettes. At that moment, he felt he really needed one.

Just then he rounded a booth and found himself looking down at her.

"Lizzie Morrison?"

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks so much to those who reviewed! For the next few chapters I will be revisiting the movie. Please read and review!

Chapter 2

In her whole twenty-seven years Lizzie couldn't recall being so nervous. She tried her best to ignore the stares from the other patrons. From their judging eyes she may have appeared a sad, lone woman seated pathetically across from well, no one. Or perhaps the fact that she couldn't keep her hands still gave the clue that she was anxiously waiting for someone - maybe a blind date.

_Christ_, she thought. A blind date was the last thing she had in mind.

What was she _doing_ here? Lizzie had found it necessary to keep herself from running out. There _had_ to be another way out of this God-forsaken bet that her nine-year-old son had made. _No_, she had told herself firmly, _Marie went to all this_ _trouble to find you a man. _

That statement almost made her laugh. Under ordinary circumstances Lizzie would do just fine without a man, thank you very much. To Lizzie, men were nothing but trouble, at least that's how it had been with Frankie's father, Davey.

The very night that she packed herself and Frankie and fled from Davey, Lizzie silently vowed that she would never need a man, never want one, never have one ever again.

Yet here she was, expecting a man, some stranger no less, to plead for him to help her. The thought of it nearly made her sick.

_I can still run out of here_, she thought desperately, her eyes darting around the room. Why did she feel like everyone was staring at her? _Instead of getting a man to pretend to be Davey I could write another letter…_

"Lizzie Morrison?"

The man's voice caught her by surprise. As her eyes scrolled up the tall man's length to his face she almost felt like she couldn't breathe.

Intense turquoise eyes stared down at her questioningly. It was only a moment but to her it felt like minutes as she gazed up into his undeniably handsome face.

_Say something Lizzie_. Something did finally come out, but it sounded more like a breath. "Yeah."

As the stranger sat down and removed his black leather jacket Lizzie knew in an instant that some vows were meant to be broken.

* * *

Patrick stared blankly at the computer screen before him. 

How long had he been sitting there, minutes, even hours?

He shook his head, attempted to clear his mind, and settled his attention back to the purchase orders before him. Absently he signed the pink form and shuffled through some logs.

For the life of him, Patrick seemed not to be able to snap out of this…he didn't know what to call it- a spell, or another kind of wicked enchantment.

Lizzie Morrison.

Patrick had not known what to expect.

His sister had told him that she was fair-skinned, that she had brown hair and brown eyes. She was simply described as thin and in her late twenties.

Marie hadn't told him that the warm brown color of her eyes would remind him of hot chocolate on a cold winter's night. Or that her hair seemed so silky soft that his fingers would be tempted to brush the bangs from her forehead. Or that her voice would be so sweet that he imagined he could listen endlessly and never tire of its gentle tone.

Patrick hadn't expected that her charming nervousness would disarm him, making him slightly forget that he was there only as a favor to Marie.

As much as he didn't like what it was Lizzie was asking him to do, Patrick felt compelled to do it. Not for the boy so much, but for the simple fact that he couldn't stand the thought of not being involved.

_It was harmless_, he told himself. Just days ago, he'd insisted to Marie that they shouldn't get mixed up with their employees.

Although, he reasoned, he barely ever set foot inside Marie's shop here in town. Often he was so occupied with managing the two other locations that he relied solely on Marie to run the one in Glasgow.

_Perfectly harmless_.

Besides, the weekend would be over before he knew it and he and Gretchen would set sail on Monday.

_Oh right, Gretchen_. _Well, she just didn't have to know_.

It was just a favor, after all.

The sound of a buzzer interrupted Patrick's thoughts as the woman's voice came through.

"Patrick?"

"Yes, Margaret, go ahead," he told her, happy for his secretary's distraction.

"Bob is here to see you."

"Thank you, Margaret. Send him in."

A smile spread across Patrick's face as he stood up to stretch and prepared to greet his long time friend. A few moments passed and he straightened a few pieces of paper, now beginning to wonder what was taking so long.

Slightly annoyed, Patrick impatiently pressed the intercom button. "Margaret, go on and send him in." As soon as he released the button he could hear his friend's animated voice coming through.

"And so…no really, Marge, stop me if you've heard this one. A blond, a priest and a nun are stuck on an island…"

Margaret's voice overpowered Bob's. "Right away, Patrick,"

Patrick rolled his eyes, shook his head, and pressed the intercom button again. He stifled a laugh and attempted to sound serious, "For the love of Christ, Bob, quit harassing my secretary and come in my office."

Margaret opened the door, greeting Patrick with a polite smile and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling with a slight shake of her head as Bob walked past her. Patrick gave the woman a knowing smile and she promptly exited.

Full of confidence, Bob looked back towards the closing door. "She wants me," he told him with a wink.

With a smirk Patrick approached him extending his hand to shake. "Er…yeah…it just so happens that my fifty-year-old secretary has a thing for thirty-something year old bampots who tell off color jokes. Aye, she definitely wants you, Bob."

"Undoubtedly," he agreed lightly shaking Patrick's hand and patting his back. He eyed his frazzled friend. "How's the boss man doing?"

Making his way back to his seat behind the desk, he gestured for Bob to sit.

"I'm well, Bob. I mean, I'm in it up to my ears as always, but things are fine."

Bob frowned. "Well big boss, this is what you get. You could've become a sailor like me, but no," Bob said exaggeratedly. "After secondary school, you had to go to the university, had to get your bloody business degree."

It was over twenty years ago that Bob had so fervently attempted to recruit Patrick into sailing with him and his uncle.

They had been so young. Patrick had goals for his life. And after nearly a year of moping from Annabel's passing, Marie had convinced him to return to school and help her with her business straight away.

Bob sat in the cushy chair, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. His feet rested impertinently on Patrick's mahogany desk. Sometimes Patrick felt a bite of envy at Bob's carefree life. He'd definitely made his choice to go into owning a business, and he would never regret it.

But, sometimes Patrick couldn't help but wonder…

Patrick leaned forward and brushed Bob's lazy sneakers from his shiny desk. "It's been months since I've seen ya, Bob. Are you in between assignments right now?" he asked sitting back down in his large executive office chair.

Bob ran leisurely fingers through his thick, brown, curly hair, and debated mentally about shaving it all off. "Yeah, I set sail on Monday."

Patrick's distracted fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, constantly staying occupied with organizing papers and putting supplies back into his tidy desk drawer. "That makes two of us," he remarked with a smile. "Em…three of us, that is, counting Gretchen."

"Still with her, eh Pat?"

It was hard not to notice Bob's obvious distaste for the woman. The way he sat up straight in his chair and fixed his eyes on Patrick's framed diploma reminded him of Marie just the other day.

"Yeah, you could say that. Taking her on a river cruise," he stated. "Going to ask her to marry me," he added with not nearly as much conviction as the other day.

Bob's whole body flinched as if he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning. He faced his friend seriously. "Yer kidding."

"Not you too, Bob," he sighed. "What's wrong with Gretchen?"

"Right. Let's put the whole getting married issue aside because ya already know how I feel about that," he shivered. "Gretchen is a stoatir, beautiful and sexy, so she is... There's nothing wrong with her." Bob spread his arms open wide, "There's a whole world of Gretchens out there, Patrick. But you don't _marry_ them."

Patrick's brows were knit as he tried to understand his friend.

"Jaysus, Patrick, I can't believe I'm saying this…if you want to go out," Bob explained, "fool around, have a good time, Gretchen's your girl. When you're ready to settle down, want to start a family you do it with a nice girl."

His mouth dropped open at Bob's remark and then closed it just as quickly. _Lizzie is a nice girl_. Patrick silently reprimanded himself for thinking such a thing. _Wait, did Bob just_ _insult Gretchen_? "What do _you _know anyhow, Mr. Playboy?"

Bob rewarded his remark with a knowing smile.

Patrick shook his head and noticed that it was nearly 5:00. "How about we go for a beer?" he asked already shutting down his computer and placing the week's logs into a nice neat stack.

"Sounds perfect."

Patrick grabbed his jacket and pushed his chair in, leading his old friend out. "Say my sailor buddy, have you ever heard of the ACCRA?"

* * *

"I can't bloody believe it," Bob told him frowning and took a sip from his beer. "Marie should've asked _me_. I would've done it gladly." 

He shouldn't have felt threatened by Bob's remark. No past, no present, no future. It was undoubtedly Bob. However, he couldn't possibly imagine him trying to be someone's father. Or get close to Lizzie. No, he pushed that thought away very quickly. As of late Bob only liked women for one thing.

"Well seeing that you haven't seen or spoken to Marie in over fifteen years, I doubt she would've been inclined to ask ya, Bob," Patrick answered, noticing the exaggerated shake of his friend's head. "Besides I owed her a favor."

"And so what does her majesty have to say about it?"

Patrick glared at Bob as he replied, "Gretchen doesn't know, and…I feel no need to tell her."

"So you like this Lizzie then?"

Patrick fumbled around for words shaking his head in denial. "It's just a favor, Bob."

Bob laughed a loud, annoying snort, his head bouncing up and down like one of those disturbing bobbleheads. "Then I'm _sure_ Gretchen would understand completely."

It was inconceivable to Patrick how in such a short time Bob had put him in such an uncomfortable spot. He definitely had a way of doing that. "You don't know her…"

His laughter became louder and reminded him of Woody Woodpecker. As his friend continued to point and laugh, Patrick felt himself becoming more flustered by the second. He closed his eyes and took a breath.

"Can we please just talk about something else?" Patrick pleaded, reaching for his frosty mug.

Bob was quiet for a moment as he studied his disturbed friend's face. He knew just how to help. "Stop me if you've heard this one…"

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

The One

A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Dear Frankie or any of its original characters or dialogue. Having said that I did not write any of the original dialogue written by Andrea Gibb, although I am using some for the sake of storytelling. No plagiarism intended so please don't sue me! Oh yeah and please review!

**Chapter 3**

Patrick was pleasantly surprised.

As they silently walked the asphalt path leading to Frankie's building, Patrick found that he didn't want it to end just yet.

He had been completely captivated by the boy.

Sure the morning had been awkward, to say the least, sitting there in Lizzie's flat waiting and wondering whether this child that he'd never even met before would make it safely home.

Seated at the dining table, Patrick likened himself to a wild animal being watched by threatened prey. Well, more the mother than Lizzie. Her eyes had been like daggers, ready to attack at any moment.

Lizzie was understandably upset and worried. For the first time he could appreciate her situation; single mum, living in a small flat, working hard to pay the bills, raising a boy with only her mum's help. Yes, now he admired her even more.

Patrick had read the letters…all of them…three times. And each time he found himself relating to this nine-year-old boy much more than he ever anticipated. Marine life was something that interested them both. Throughout his childhood Patrick had been fascinated by sea creatures. In this they had a common ground.

The night before he had selected a book and decided that this would be the perfect way to begin with Frankie. He might've been choosing the book for his own son had he still been alive, Patrick thought wryly. Some things just weren't meant to be…

Lizzie had informed him that Frankie was deaf. That hadn't been quite the problem he anticipated. There was a gentle simplicity to their communication- one that hadn't required the use of many words. It was almost as though he could read the boy's thoughts just looking into his expressive eyes.

He couldn't help it, though. The more time Patrick spent with Frankie, he couldn't help feeling that this was exactly what his life had been missing.

Whether they'd been gazing up at massive ships or he'd been demonstrating how to skip stones across the water, he found himself able to see through the eyes of Frankie with such child-like wonder that he was able for once to put away his busy, doubting thoughts. For so long Patrick had been so caught up in his work and Gretchen and life that somewhere in there he discovered that he'd forgotten how to live.

Goodbye…the thought of it was disturbing. Somehow he wasn't ready to say goodbye.

No, he didn't want it to end just yet.

* * *

"Who the hell do ya think ya are?" Lizzie asked him with an annoyed, incredulous laugh. "Who gave ya the right to come in here and behave like this?" 

Clearly this woman thought he was for the madhouse but Patrick persisted nonetheless. Her enchanting warm eyes had turned fiery and accusing.

"You did," he told her, in a voice so soft, so sad that she could begin to see the effect her son had had on him.

Patrick didn't ask for this. His life had been fine up to this point until Frankie and Lizzie had come into the picture. She had indeed given him the right once she handed him those letters. And asked him to pretend to be Frankie's father. As curious as he was about Davey and what had happened he was still determined not to let Frankie down.

"He's waited all this time. You've waited all this time," he reasoned softly.

Lizzie had about a hundred walls. They stood tall and strong, surrounding her protectively like a fortress. Layers of bricks kept her happily contained within its safety.

It wasn't just the words that he spoke but the way he said them that threw Lizzie off. This man, this complete stranger had gotten to her son. Somehow, he had connected with him and didn't want to let go. Lizzie felt one of her many walls begin to fall…

Abruptly the door opened behind her and Frankie threw himself into the stranger's arms; a gesture so sweet, so pure that despite her better judgment she couldn't help but be touched.

For all intents and purposes this stranger was Davey. And as Frankie's innocent brown eyes looked pleadingly into Lizzie's face she knew she couldn't let him down either.

"One o'clock, here."

"No, one o'clock, down at the quay."

_Now he's just asking too much, _she thought defensively. _I'm still his mother, I still make the decisions. _"Right, that's it, Frankie, come on," she told him trying to pry her baby from the strange man's grasp.

"I've got _business_ down at the quay," he told Lizzie. He'd promised to meet Bob in the morning. "Be easier if you could meet me there."

Lizzie felt she no longer had control of anything anymore as Frankie stared up at her like a wee puppy dog, his arms wrapped tightly around the tall stranger.

"Trust me," he requested sincerely.

Trust was something that Lizzie had lost the ability to do some eight and a half years ago. Yet here was this man asking her, begging with those amazing turquoise eyes, that she found herself not knowing what to think.

And then he continued, "You've got to trust somebody, someday."

It was too much. The man's mesmerizing eyes seemed to reach out to her, and his words had touched her very soul.

Lizzie had found herself defeated- by both the hole that Davey had forced upon Frankie's life, and by the calm stranger who had gained the trust of her fatherless son.

Her eyes looked downward as she acquiesced, "One o'clock, down at the quay."

And that was when one more of Lizzie's walls came crashing down.

* * *

The sound of the familiar ring tone startled Patrick nearly causing him to jump from his cozy recliner chair. 

"Hello."

"How are ya, gorgeous?"

Patrick smiled at the sound of Gretchen's voice. "Just great, and you? How are those spa people treating you?" he asked casually.

She let out a low, throaty laugh, "It's heaven, here, Patrick. I love this place. I still have all day tomorrow and I already feel ten years younger."

"It that right?" he asked her distractedly reading one of Frankie's letters again. They meant so much more now that he'd had some time to spend with the boy. He found he had trouble putting them down.

"Mmmm hmmm," she purred. "It would be perfect if you were here, Patrick. I miss you."

"Hmmm well, I'm sure I'd just be in the way," he offered, shuffling through some of the other letters.

"You sound busy," she commented, her voice reflecting a tiny bit of concern. "What are you up to?"

Patrick reminded himself not to panic. _You're doing nothing wrong,_ he told himself. "I…er…am…doing a favor for Marie," he got the words out and cleared his throat, guiltily grabbing the letters and stuffing them behind the chair as if Gretchen could see him through the mobile phone.

There was an amused laugh. "My poor workaholic. Really, Patrick, you have to slow down and take a break."

He cleared his throat again and pulled his collar from his neck. Was it getting hot in there? "Monday," he said simply.

"Right, Monday. This Monday we set sail and Patrick Connelly, you belong to me."

A nervous laugh escaped his lips, "I can hardly wait."

"Me too," she sighed and then let out a yawn. "Goodnight," she whispered in her sexiest voice.

"Goodnight."

He snapped his phone shut still having the feeling of being watched. At arms length he held the tiny device away from him as though it were a smelly sock. His eyes searched the house to find the perfect spot for it. _The kitchen…no…the bog…no…the study…no_, he thought. No place seemed, well…far enough. Patrick continued to move about the house until he reached the linen closet.

Perfect.

He opened the doors and shoved the small phone between a few fluffy blankets and shut the door quickly, glancing around him as though he were still being watched.

_Get a grip, Patrick, _he told himself_. You're doing nothing wrong_. He heaved a sigh and walked backwards away from the linen closet, suspiciously, as though any moment the evil device might spring out at him of its own accord.

He stopped for a moment and listened to make sure there was no noise coming from there. Then he laughed and shook his head satisfied with the location he'd chosen.

Perfect.

As a rule, he'd always kept his phone on just in case one of the managers needed to reach him, or Marie, or Margaret...or Gretchen. It was one of those burdensome chains that until now he'd found completely necessary to have with him at every possible moment.

Now as he thought about it he realized that it just wouldn't do, after all. The three of them out together possibly enjoying the day then the annoying mobile goes off interrupting their peaceful outing. It just wouldn't do.

_No_, Patrick thought determinedly, _the world would have to survive without Mr. Connelly for one bloody Sunday_.

Not just any Sunday- tomorrow was Lizzie's and Frankie's day.

And he couldn't wait.

* * *

A cool morning breeze swept through Patrick's dark hair. The salty sea air floated lightly around his nose like the welcoming aroma of coffee in the morning. His feet dug into the cool, grainy sand, toes almost covered and peacefully he stood gazing out at the ocean admiring the luminous sunrise. 

It had been one of Annabel's favorite rituals when they were married. On Sundays they would arise before the sun and huddle together for warmth as the dawn slowly approached.

He sighed to himself like he had so many times before. Yes, he still missed her.

He was standing in their spot outside the beach house in between the two piers. Sometimes they would come back for a picnic, or simply play in the cold, ocean water- splashing each other playfully.

On that last Sunday they sat on a blanket. It had been a sunny, perfect day. And Patrick remembered laying his hand gently on her swollen belly. It was the most incredible experience for him - the first time he'd ever felt the baby kick. Oblivious to the outside world they sat, laughing and crying in amazement; the happy little family-just the three of them.

And that was exactly nineteen years ago today.

His son, how he'd wished that he could've known him. He would be an adult-eighteen years old.

A tear slid down Patrick's face and he took a deep breath. He had a big day ahead of him.

First he would stop by the office and finalize some paperwork then he'd make his way to Glasgow to meet Bob.

Patrick was in luck. The other night he'd learned that Bob just so happened to have an old friend sailing aboard the ACCRA. Bob had assured him it wouldn't be any problem to get Patrick onboard...and Frankie and Lizzie if need be.

They had planned to meet for tea since Bob was setting sail again the following day and would be away for six months.

_One o' clock down at the quay._

He could still hear Lizzie's gentle voice. Her voice reminded him of a favorite song- the kind you never tired of hearing…How many times had he played it over and over again in his mind?

_One o'clock down at the quay_.

That was when he would meet Lizzie and Frankie.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

The One

A/N: Thanks so much for your feedback! I really do appreciate it sooo much. Hope you enjoy and please review!

Chapter 4

It had been the perfect day.

In Frankie Morrison's nine and a half years, it could've quite possibly been the best day of his young life.

He basked in the comforting presence of both his mum and dad. Something as simple as walking on the beach, or eating ice cream at the parlor, or sitting and enjoying the view from Frankie's favorite spot was one hundred times more special that he was able to share it with both. The strange thing, he realized, was that the experience wasn't as awkward as he thought it might be. Sure, it may have been a little uncomfortable at times but as the day went on he found the two beginning to relax around each other. And more than anything he was just happy to have his dad there.

Frankie hadn't questioned it.

He never saw his deafness as a handicap. Of course he wished that he could hear the sounds of people's voices, or the whistle that the trees made in the wind, or the lapping of the ocean waves. He'd always read about it, and he'd always tried to imagine them. Frankie was very mature for a nine and a half-year-old boy. He'd also realized that they were only sounds after all.

One thing Frankie was very aware of was that his other senses were wonderfully sharp. His eyesight tested better than most of the other kids his age. Smell was another sense that Frankie appreciated; his ultrasensitive little nose could smell the mouth-watering aroma of his mum's chocolate chip cookies from far distances. And taste…he had a very keen sense of taste. Indeed, Frankie knew what he liked- chips. He also knew what he didn't like- fish and most varieties of vegetables.

Being the overly intuitive boy that he was, Frankie wondered why he_ hadn't_ questioned it- until now.

This man was _not_ his da.

They had spent the whole Saturday together and all of Frankie's hopes and dreams about him seemed to have come true.

Intending to go through with Ricky Munro's challenge, Frankie shyly made his way to the dance floor towards Catriona when he caught sight of the man leading his hesitant mum to dance. Maybe it was the look of shy uncertainty on her face, or the gleam of attraction that he noticed in her eyes. Or maybe it was the sort of timid smile she gave him. No, he'd never seen her look this way before.

Frankie knew very little of his father. Long before his nana and mum realized that the young boy was so adept at lip reading he'd discovered some things about his dad. He'd been an alcoholic and yelled too much.

And she hated him.

Frankie had never witnessed her saying that, but as much as she tried to hide it the hatred that his mum held for the man was apparent in her eyes.

Amidst the crowd of people on the dance floor, Frankie could feel the reverberating tone from the music pound softly through his body, and as he watched the stranger hold her in a fond embrace, it suddenly came to him, like a vision of bright fireworks lighting up the night sky.

No, this tall, dark-haired, smiling man gazing down into his mother's eyes was definitely not his father.

It was true that he didn't even know who this man was. He'd been playing the part of his dad. Until this weekend Frankie hadn't known the feeling of a strong male presence. Or the comfort of relating to a father. His whole life he'd waited for the kind of connection that he shared with this man.

Yet this man was a stranger to him.

And Frankie realized all at once, it was okay.

* * *

_Who was this man?_

Lizzie had been asking herself that very question for the past two days. Never more than now though did it seem to consume her.

Leaning back up against her door she stared blankly at the two folded envelopes in her hands.

He hadn't accepted her money.

She was in a daze and she felt as though she were floating on a cloud somewhere way up high in the stars. She found herself thinking wonderfully absurd, unthinkable things like what she would do if she saw him again…or even worse, what would she do if she didn't.

_Who was this man_, she wondered over and over again. This gentle, kind stranger had very convincingly played the part of her son's daddy and succeeded in winning his heart. And in just a single day, this stranger; this man had successfully conquered a few more of Lizzie's walls.

"So, what do you think, then?" Marie had asked her with a vested interest in her reaction.

At that time it seemed to Lizzie a preposterous question. "I don't think anything. Why?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering, that's all."

"There's nothing to wonder. It's a business arrangement, that's all," Lizzie had told her defensively, as though Marie was insane to even consider it. Although when he cast a smile in her direction, the idea didn't seem so insane after all…

"And his ship sails tomorrow, like he said," Lizzie confirmed to Marie, trying to convince herself that she was trying to make something out of nothing.

Marie nodded in agreement. "Like he said."

Lizzie gathered from the way she'd replied that there was something Marie was not telling her but then she knew she had no right to ask.

She didn't even know his name.

It was just too confusing. Throughout the course of the day Lizzie had felt many emotions, but there was one she never expected to feel- happiness. It had been but a taste of it and Lizzie realized how much she missed it.

Not even for a moment since she'd left her husband had she afforded herself the luxury of that elusive emotion. Happiness was for people who hadn't become ensnared into abusive relationships. Or for mothers who kept unthinkable secrets from her son…

But for a brief few hours she'd also felt safe- safely trapped within the warmth of his greenish eyes. She wouldn't have minded staying trapped there forever…

It had been a long time since she'd felt drawn to any member of the opposite sex and as thrilling as it was to have this charming, handsome man smiling down at her Lizzie couldn't help feeling like she had landed herself in a very different kind of trouble.

It seemed like minutes had passed as she waited for his lips to meet hers. An eternity later he finally kissed her and Lizzie could see his hesitation as though he was wagering some kind of battle inside his mind. Maybe he was married? As disturbing of a thought that it was she found that she no longer cared as the gentle brushing of his lips had awoken a need inside her- the need to be desired and cared for.

It ended too soon. And then he was gone and a part of Lizzie felt empty and alone. While she knew it was for the best she hoped against hope that someday she would see him again.

* * *

He could hardly sleep. 

Patrick stared blindly at the delicate ring before him. It looked so small in his large, masculine hand.

Over and over he considered its meaning. This ring was to represent a proposal of marriage. It would be the second proposal in his life. The first time was to a woman he'd known and loved since childhood. There had been no debate about it nor was it a marriage of "convenience". He proposed to Annabel because he truly wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. There had been no doubts clouding his mind.

Now as he focused on the beautiful stones, he had nothing but doubts.

Patrick breathed a loud sigh and set the ring on the nightstand beside him. He rolled over onto his side, burying his head deeply into the pillow. Five days ago he was so sure about proposing to Gretchen. All the Marie's and Bob's in the world couldn't have convinced him otherwise.

After Annabel passed away Patrick was convinced he would never marry again. He'd felt as though his heart had been buried along with his wife and unborn son. So, what was the point, he reasoned. It just wasn't possible to love again.

Gretchen was beautiful, and sexy, as Bob had said, and when they were together they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. He had Gretchen to thank, after all, for helping him to move past Annabel. She had been a friend when he needed it and listened tirelessly to Patrick as he went on about how much he loved his late wife.

He had casually dated other women but somehow always ended back with Gretchen.

She made no secret of wanting to marry him. He'd made no secret that he didn't love her…_that way_…and probably never would. For years off and on they remained many times falling back into a relationship of comfort and security.

But that's all it was.

Patrick couldn't think about Gretchen anymore. His mind and his soul had been consumed with two people…Lizzie and Frankie.

Never before had he seen himself trying to play the part of someone else's father. Never before had he realized how much he might enjoy it. He didn't like pretending to be someone he wasn't and alluding to being a sailor. But by the end of the night it had been too difficult to say goodbye and he found himself wishing he didn't have to.

This feeling he had inside was not one he expected to feel ever again. And Patrick wasn't sure if he was ready to let it go.

He knew he had a decision to make.

* * *

A huge grin spread across Marie's face as she hung up the phone and winked at her twenty-two year old employee, Cindy, who was wiping the tables. 

"He didn't go through with it," Marie reported and let out a sigh of relief as Lizzie walked into the chip shop.

She headed to the back to hang her purse and jacket and was briefly deafened by Cindy's squeal.

Cindy's blue eyes sparkled and she ran to exchange enthusiastic high fives with Marie. Lizzie curiously watched their exchange as she tied on her apron.

"Are ya kidding, Marie? Of course he didn't propose to her, and wasn't ever going to," Cindy assuredly told Marie.

Marie raised an eyebrow at the girl. Although Cindy was a young woman, in college no less, Marie still saw her as a young girl. "Just what makes you so certain, hen?"

Lizzie watched in amusement as her animated co-worker dropped her cleaning rag, raised a dirty hand to her forehead and declared exaggeratedly, "Why, Patrick's going to marry me, of course."

Marie laughed and shook her head at Cindy as she handed Lizzie a large box of cigarettes to stock. "Right then, that'll be between the time pigs fly and when hell freezes over."

Cindy gaped at her, picking up the rag from the floor and headed to the counter to grab a package of napkins.

"Who are we talking about?" Lizzie inquired.

Marie and Cindy exchanged alarmed glances. Cindy was like family to Marie and she couldn't resist filling her in on the favor Patrick had done for Lizzie and Frankie.

"The boss," Cindy answered quickly off the top of her head.

"Hey!" Marie exclaimed, "a-hem!" she retorted pointing to herself.

With a roll of her eyes, Cindy filled the napkin dispensers and explained, "Well, of course you're the boss too, Marie, but Patrick signs my paychecks." Her blue eyes met Lizzie's and she sighed, "The most perfect signature in the world…"

Before Marie could retort she caught sight of the very woman she couldn't stand, and she was walking into the shop. Quickly Marie headed to the back room so she wouldn't be tempted to forcibly remove her.

The long legged blond shoved open the door. As usual Gretchen's skirt was too high and her blouse was too low. She sauntered in and up to the front counter, removing her designer sunglasses. With a mix of surprise and boredom in her green eyes, she looked down her perfect little nose at Lizzie. "You're new."

Lizzie greeted her with a bright smile just as she would any other patron. "Yes, I've been here a little over a month. What can I get you?" she asked catching the displeased look on Cindy's face from the tables.

"Well, you can tell me where Patrick's hiding."

A confused expression overtook Lizzie's face. "Well, I…don't…"

Cindy joined Lizzie at the front. "We don't know where Patrick is, maybe at one of the other two locations."

Gretchen tossed her big hair, and wrinkled her tiny nose at Cindy in acknowledgement, "Well, Cindy just tell your boss to call me."

Marie couldn't help herself. She emerged with a fire in her eyes, like a tigress ready to attack the predator threatening her cubs. Gladly she would've escorted her out with a swift kick in her short-skirted behind. "We'll make sure he gets the message, Gretchen," Marie told her, seething inside. Gretchen just seemed to know exactly what buttons to push.

"Oh, Marie, didn't see you back there," Gretchen teased. "So are you hiding your brother back there anywhere?"

Marie stood tall blocking the door as though she were in fact hiding him. "Did ya _see_ his car, Gretchen?" she asked her matter-of-factly.

"No need to get snippy, Marie, I just can't seem to reach Patrick is all. He's not answering his mobile and that damned Margaret won't tell me where he is."

"He's a very busy man," Marie replied icily.

Gretchen knew she was fighting a losing battle with Patrick's sister. Marie never liked her and wasn't afraid of showing it. "Right well, just tell that brother of yers to call me," the blond ordered and thrust her sunglasses back over her eyes.

"Uh huh," Marie sang dully as Gretchen made her way out.

Cindy peeked out the window to make sure the buxom blond was out of eye's view and promptly made a gagging noise while pointing her index finger into her open mouth.

Lizzie laughed and Marie shook her head.

"I can't believe he's still with her," Cindy frowned. "She's a right snooty bitch!"

Marie stood beside Cindy with her arms folded and shrugged, "She's got the four b's."

Lizzie joined the ladies. "What are the four b's?"

Cindy sighed in response, "Blond, beauty, and big boobs."

* * *

After the lunch rush Cindy had gone home leaving Lizzie and Marie to close up shop. Outside they stood as Marie locked up. 

"I know it's a terrible thing to say, but Davey's finally done you a favor. It's over now."

As she fumbled with her jacket zipper, Lizzie gathered her courage to ask Marie what she'd been dying to ask all day. "Marie?"

"What?"

"Who _was_ he?"

_Finally,_ Marie thought. She wondered when or if Lizzie was _ever_ going to ask. "He's my brother," Marie responded with a smile.

Her brown eyes opened wide and Lizzie was too shocked to reply. "Oh, right." She had gotten the words out of her mouth and as they stood there in their uncomfortable silence Lizzie glanced at her watch and said, "I've got to go," and quickly turned and started heading the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?" Marie asked.

"I'll see you after."

Before Marie knew it her friend had turned the corner. At first she was puzzled by Lizzie's abrupt departure. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks- Lizzie had met Patrick's girlfriend.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

The One

Chapter 5

Marie had never seen two people so taken with each other so willing to do nothing about it.

It was none of her business so she decided to stay out of it…to the best of her ability.

But as she watched her friend run off, she ached for her.

It was quite obvious to Marie how Lizzie had affected her brother. The favor had been for only one day, and as reluctant as Patrick had been to become involved, he had surprised her by initiating another day. Her heart felt like bursting as she saw him leading Lizzie up to dance, and although she was not aware of the events that followed, it had been enough to change Patrick's mind about proposing.

However, it had not been obvious to her until now how Lizzie had felt about him.

"There's nothing to wonder," she'd told Marie. "It's a business arrangement, that's all," Lizzie insisted.

This was all very unexpected, Marie thought sadly. But until she saw the look of sheer disappointment in Lizzie's eyes as Marie revealed that the man was her brother, she couldn't be sure just how Lizzie had felt about him.

Marie heaved a sigh, breathing in the salty air and bundled up into her jacket as she walked the rest of the way home.

* * *

Lizzie methodically cut two lemons into quarters and squeezed the juice into a bowl. She wiped her fingers of the lemon juice and reached for the next ingredient. 

The flat was blissfully empty. Her mum was shopping, Frankie was in school.

She opened up a can of sweetened condensed milk and mixed it with the lemon juice.

Quietly and peacefully she stirred and mixed to her heart's content.

And as she grabbed a container of whipped cream from the refrigerator she let out a sigh. Warm and cozy within her many walls, Lizzie felt safe again.

It was the first time since yesterday that she'd felt calm. Yesterday had been a hard day.

After a whole week she'd finally gathered the courage to ask Marie who the stranger was only to discover that he was her only brother, Patrick. It just so happened that he was the very same man that had that horrible, beautiful, blond woman for a girlfriend.

She'd been so shocked and upset that she practically ran from Marie and somehow found herself at the post.

Therein lay another bomb that seemed to explode in Lizzie's face.

She'd wiped away the unexpected onslaught of tears on the bus while she read Frankie's letter to him, the man; Patrick.

Patrick. The name still sounded foreign to her. After reading Frankie's letter she didn't know what was worse; that her son had seen through the stranger's facade, or that she'd been caught in a lie.

It had all been a lie, she realized sadly. The realization had hit her as she lay awake in her bed the night before that all the emotions and feelings that the stranger had brought forth had been false. He was pretending, like an actor. She had quite literally paid him to act.

Lizzie forcefully pulled the tab off the Cool Whip and lifted off the lid. She spooned the fluffy white cream into the lemon mixture and mixed and mixed…

Patrick had been a very convincing performer. He played the part of acting as Frankie's daddy very well, and that was all that she had asked. Nothing more.

Within Frankie's innocent words, she found her son reaching out for him. Frankie wanted to see Patrick again. Now that he knew the truth about his real father, her son hoped it was possible.

Lizzie berated herself for being so foolish. How on earth had she allowed this man to get to her? How had he managed to break down some of her walls? How could she think that it was okay to begin trusting any man again?

Shaking her head, she poured the mixture into the pie crust, spreading it nice and neat, and placed it gently on the refrigerator shelf as tears began to cloud her vision.

And worse, how did she dare think that if he had a shred of sincerity in him that a man like Patrick could possibly care for a woman like Lizzie?

Maybe, she thought, it would've been better if she'd never learned who he was. If only she could've resisted asking. She wouldn't have to care that he was co-owner of three Marie's restaurants; that he was her boss and didn't need the money she paid him for the favor.

Maybe she could've been satisfied with never seeing the man, the sailor ever again, but at least she could carry the sweet memory of him in her heart.

Now that she knew the truth, Lizzie thought sadly, she was the only one to blame. There were no maybes, there were only lies.

* * *

"What have ya done, Patrick?!" Marie had yelled into the telephone, causing him to hold the receiver away from his ear. 

"What?" he asked her continuing his reply to the e-mail in front of him. "Right, sorry I heard that Gretchen was at your shop. I've been avoiding her. I just need to clear my head."

He heard Marie sigh. "I don't understand why yer still with her."

Patrick's eyes looked away from the computer screen and he laid his face onto his hand, with one elbow on his desk, and rubbed at his aching temples.

"Patrick?"

He rubbed his temples harder. "I'm here, Marie, I've had this huge headache for a week now and can't seem to get rid of it."

_And her name was Gretchen_…Marie thought. "Right well, take some aspirin, Patrick, but keep that woman away from my shop."

Patrick sighed and pulled open his desk drawer, reaching around for his aspirin bottle. "Sure thing, Marie, I'll talk to her." He unscrewed the top distractedly. "How's Lizzie doing? Is she at work today?"

In truth, Patrick had to stop himself several times from picking up the phone and calling Marie just to inquire about Lizzie.

The line was silent for a moment and then Marie spoke. "That's what I called to talk to you about, Patrick."

Quickly he swallowed a couple of pills and screwed the top back on the bottle. "Is everything alright?"

"Lizzie knows who you are and she knows who Gretchen is."

Patrick nearly dropped the phone. "What!? How?"

"Well, Gretchen came in flaunting herself about, as usual, interrogating her and everyone else as to where you were…"

He cut in, shaking his head, utterly confused, "That doesn't make any sense, Marie, how did Lizzie find out who I was?"

"I told her," Marie replied simply.

"Why? That wasn't part of the deal-"

Marie cut in, "Because she asked."

All at once, Patrick felt like he couldn't breathe and he found himself inhaling and exhaling long and hard as though he were about to hyperventilate. Three words…_because she asked_. That was all it took to send Patrick's heart beating like crazy and fill him with more happiness than he'd known in a long time. Patrick sat perfectly still in his office chair, his brain had processed too much information and seemed to forget how to tell his body to move.

But then Marie's words sunk in.

_Lizzie knows who you are and she knows who Gretchen is_.

"Shit," Patrick cursed.

"That's not the worst of it, Patrick,"

Just breathe, he told himself. "What are ya talking about Marie?" he asked warily, rubbing at his temples again.

"I need to place an ad in the paper and put the help wanted sign back in the window."

"Why?" he asked, already feeling the dread nipping at his insides.

"Lizzie quit."

It was silent again and Patrick thought Marie could hear his heart pounding through the telephone. "Why, Marie?"

"She said that the bakery down the street would pay more and…"

Margaret's voice buzzed in over the intercom. "Patrick? Eddie's on line one."

Patrick glared at the blasted device. "Margaret, I'm on an important call right now. Please hold all my calls."

He released the button and didn't wait for Margaret's reply, switching off the intercom.

"Offer her more money, Marie," he told her urgently.

"I would've Patrick, if it would've made a difference. I think we both know the real reason she quit."

He closed his eyes and let out a very long, loud sigh.

"I don't know what happened after you walked them home, Patrick. But you really did a number on her."

Patrick couldn't recall the last time something made him feel ecstatically happy and miserably sad at the same time. What could he say? Could he just tell Marie that Lizzie had brought out a taste of what he had with Annabel? How ridiculous would it sound, he wondered, if he told her that she had him under some strange spell?

Pathetically, he recalled his own words to Marie. He vaguely remembered them now- something about bad business and getting mixed up with your employees. Of course when he'd said that he was only using it as an excuse.

Marie waited patiently for him to reply but there was only silence.

"Right, well, I just thought I'd let ya know to take her off the payroll and I'll be busy interviewing…"

"Marie," he said quietly, "I couldn't just show up in her life again. Frankie thinks I'm his daddy away at sea."

"Davey passed away, Patrick, and Frankie knows the truth- all of it."

Patrick sunk down low in the chair. He felt like he'd been beaten over the head with a club.

Frankie knew the truth. Lizzie knew the truth. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was to hurt either of them.

_And Frankie's daddy was dead._

Marie could've badgered and blamed him some more but she could tell by his silence that he'd had enough. It was his fault, after all, she thought. Lizzie and Marie had grown close and now she felt that because of Patrick that she would lose her. He was the only one who could make it right. Marie also realized that no amount of begging on her part would make him do it. So for now she just had to let him be.

"Right, well, I've gotta go. Got an ad to place. Cheerio."

Patrick let out a grunt that may have passed for a goodbye and Marie hung up the phone.

She walked over to the shelves in the back room and pulled out her phone directory. She checked to make sure everything up front was okay and Cindy was tending to a small queue. With a sigh she flipped through the pages to find the number to dial the local paper.

* * *

"You did what?!" Nell asked her daughter, her eyes open wide in surprise. 

"I quit, Ma."

Nell looked at her daughter as though she were from another planet. "Why?"

"The bakery down the street hired me, and it's more money and I start tomorrow," Lizzie told her mum very quickly. As rapidly as she could Lizzie walked past her to the kitchen trying to escape her mum's eagle eye.

Nell watched as Lizzie filled up the tea kettle and avoided her gaze. "Why, Lizzie? You already had a job at Marie's and the pay was fine."

Lizzie turned off the water, covered the kettle and set it on a burner. "There was no future for me there, Ma. And I missed working in a bakery."

Nell sat at the table, let out a sigh, and lit up a cigarette. Her brows were furrowed as she looked up at Lizzie questioningly. "There's something you're not telling me, Lizzie. You've been right depressing this whole week…and don't try to say it's because of Davey."

She pulled a chair out and sat across from her mother. This woman knew her too well and would see through any of her excuses.

Before Lizzie could speak, Nell began, "Does this have to do with that boss man of yours?"

As Lizzie's brown eyes turned away, Nell could see she had her answer. She took a puff of her cigarette and set it down on the ashtray. "But you'd never have to see him, Lizzie."

"But, I'd always know he was there," Lizzie declared, circling the pattern of the wood with her finger. "Probably with his girlfriend…" she added bitterly.

She took a few more drags of her cigarette and cocked her head thoughtfully. "If you recall, Lizzie, you were looking for a man, you didn't say he had to be single."

Lizzie looked up to dispute but Nell cut in, "And after all, Marie said that he didn't end up proposing. That's probably because of you."

Her eyes focused intently on the line of smoke emerging from her mother's cigarette. "He's still with her," she informed her quickly, not wanting to admit to herself that was what hurt the most. "No past, no present, no future, is what I wanted. I was looking for a man to pretend, for God's sake, I didn't expect to..." she trailed off.

Nell looked up with interest. After years of solitude, she was happy to see that her daughter had found the ability to open up her heart again.

"Anyhow, I'm not interested in hearing Cindy talk about him, or seeing his "perfect" signature on my paycheck, or chance meeting that cow of a girlfriend again. I don't need that right now."

The kettle whistled and Lizzie jumped up to turn it off. She turned to her mother, her face lit up with a positive smile. "It's actually a good thing, Ma. I'll make more money doing something I like to do, and save up so that we can move out of this dump and get a nice flat."

"Good God, Lizzie, you want to move again?"

Lizzie reached a cup and set it on the table. For the first time in a very long week she felt confident and happy. "It'll be better, Ma. I don't have Davey's ghost chasing me around anymore and we'll move to a new place with bigger rooms. Everyone will be happy. You'll see."

A fresh start, Lizzie thought, was exactly what she needed.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for your feedback, and please, please hang in there with me! Please review! 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks so much for your feedback!! I love you people! More to come probably next week. Please review!

Chapter 6

Seven-year-old Gretchen Owen held tightly to the cream-colored teddy bear. She had many others but by far this was her favorite. Its fur was slightly tattered, the tiny black nose barely visible, and held barely a thread for its mouth.

Her small hand clung to it and huddled inside her patchwork quilt in a very dark, private area of her room. She flinched again at the loud screaming voices coming from downstairs.

It seemed to have become a daily occurrence in her young life that she'd heard her mother screaming at her father, her mum's vicious words slurred from the booze and barely understandable. Gretchen cringed as she heard various objects slamming against walls, sometimes glass breaking. The bellowing response of her father's curses set her heart pounding.

As frequently as it occurred she never got used to it.

Her mother hadn't always been this way. At eighteen years of age, Brigitte had moved to Scotland from her birthplace in Berlin to escape her domineering parents. She had set out to put as much distance between Germany and herself, even considering sailing to the United States when she met a young strapping fellow at the train station. Colin Owen had been tall, with striking hazel eyes and a charming smile. His dark hair and tall frame had been in direct contrast to Brigitte's almost white, blond hair, dark green eyes, and petite figure.

Colin had swept Brigitte off her feet and proposed marriage almost immediately. The young train conductor settled them into a modest flat in Glasgow. The young German soon found work as a seamstress and the two were on their way towards a bright future.

When Gretchen was born, Colin and Brigitte felt as if they'd been truly blessed. For the first three years of her life they had been the happiest of families. Quickly after, Brigitte became pregnant again.

Tiny ripples appeared on Brigitte's huge, swollen belly and as four-year-old Gretchen's tiny hand felt the being inside moving around in her mother's womb, she was enamored.

It appeared to Gretchen that her little sister, Kirsty was her very own baby.

Hours she spent playing with her, helping to change and feed her. She sang and cooed, never tiring of the little one. She would help her mum bathe her, and brush her fine, light brown hair. Gretchen encouraged and delighted in her baby sister's first steps. She loved her little Kirsty as a mother loved her own child.

The first of many tragedies in her life occurred one afternoon. Gretchen had come home from school and bounded in to discover her beautiful two-and-a-half-year-old baby sister laying dead on the puddled bathroom floor. The overpowering fume stung Gretchen's nose, and a blood-curdling scream escaped her lips as she found Kirsty's small, lifeless body; an empty bottle of ammonia beside her.

And that was when things went from bad to worse.

As the screaming voices became louder, seven-year-old Gretchen shivered and clutched Kirsty's teddy bear and hugged it tightly as though it alone would bring her beloved sister back and restore the happiness that had once existed there.

* * *

_Present_

Gretchen's eyes narrowed at the receiver. Anger filled her veins and she wanted to scream. Clutching Kirsty's teddy bear with one hand she calmly spoke again. "Margaret, it's very important. I really need to talk to him."

"I'm sorry Miss Owen, he can't be disturbed right now."

It was always the same answer. It had been over a week and no amount of searching or calling had landed her any response from him.

Deep down inside she knew that something was very wrong. Since their cruise Gretchen found Patrick was not his normal self. He seemed distant. Although he was physically there with her on that luxurious cruise and he held her in his arms, his mind was elsewhere. It didn't matter how beautiful the stars looked at night or how calm and peaceful the waves were, Patrick wasn't there with her. When she spoke of moving in together, and the possibility of wanting to have a baby, he only smiled, but said nothing. As much as she prodded he wouldn't open up and she didn't know why.

With an angry growl she slammed the receiver down and screamed curses at the top of her lungs.

Then, sadly she was reminded of her own father.

It wasn't easy for Colin to raise a daughter alone. He worked long hours and was barely there for her as she grew. Without a mother, Gretchen quickly became independent. Selfishness, rudeness, and many other undesirable qualities were born of that independence. Years of neglect contributed to her seeking out the wrong kind of attention.

But along with it came a will as strong as iron. Gretchen determinedly finished secondary school, went on to college, and after years of hard work became the top market researcher for her firm.

In one of her business classes she met Patrick. She couldn't help but be attracted to the tall, handsome man. Patrick was different. Unlike the others he wasn't falling all over her. He had just lost his young pregnant wife. At the age of twenty he was a widower and her heart went out to him.

Gretchen understood very well about loss.

That had been the very foundation of their relationship. They took comfort in that familiarity…until now. Somewhere along the line she found herself in love with him.

Patrick had always told her that he was incapable of loving again, and it seemed no matter how hard he pushed her away, she pushed even harder to come back. Such was their on again off again relationship.

With a sigh she placed the fuzzy teddy bear back on her bed and plopped down beside it, her sharp green eyes wandered over to the framed picture on her nightstand.

Inside the silver frame was one of the few happy memories she had left of her mother. As she gazed upon the image of herself and her mum at the park, she couldn't help becoming lost in the memory…

"Mum, tell me what it's like to be in love."

Brigitte Owen's kind green eyes looked down into her daughter's. Her light blond ponytail flipped back and forth with the motion of the swing.

"Oh Gretchen," she sighed, "It's the most wonderful feeling in the world."

The four-year-old knit her little brows in confusion. "How? Tell me?"

With one hand Brigitte held onto the chain as she swung side by side with her daughter. Her other hand lay comfortably on her belly. Smiling, she looked down at the child's innocent face. "Well," she began, letting her sandaled feet drag in the sand beneath her, "you feel like your heart is about to burst, and butterflies tickle your belly."

Gretchen looked dreamily up at her mum. "Is that how you feel about daddy?"

Brigitte nodded and stared off in the distance. "And it feels like you'd rather not live than be without him."

A giggle escaped Brigitte's lips as she noticed the faraway look in her daughter's young eyes.

"I want to be in love, Mum."

"Someday you will, love."

Gretchen sighed, a long dreamy sigh.

Contentedly the two swung and Brigitte caressed her swollen, pregnant belly, and added, "And you'll never want to let him go."

* * *

Nell exhaled a long puff of smoke, her eyes trained on the television set. She could barely hear the newscaster over the disagreement between her daughter and grandson taking place in the kitchen. 

When it came to Frankie, Nell knew that as much as she wanted to mother him, Lizzie was his mother (and she'd never failed to remind her of that fact), and that whether she agreed with it or not Lizzie was going to raise Frankie the way she saw fit.

Ever since Lizzie began work at the bakery one week ago, Nell had noticed a sort of calmness embrace her. Her daughter appeared happy. Already settled into her new routine, Lizzie left for work before the sun and came home just after Frankie returned from school. The timing was perfect. Lizzie didn't seem to be on edge like she'd been just the week before.

It seemed to Nell that Lizzie had put any bad feelings toward Marie's brother safely tucked away. Until now…

"No, Frankie. I'm not going to tell you. Will ya please leave it?"

Nell looked up curiously and extinguished her cigarette. The next thing she heard was the sound of Lizzie's long, frustrated sigh.

"I said no," she insisted, her voice unnecessarily raised.

Nell couldn't help wonder what was going on. Lizzie had already informed her that she and Frankie had a very long discussion the other day and that she'd painfully confessed the whole truth to him. The letters, the stranger, Davey, and everything else were no longer a secret.

As she made her way up toward the kitchen she wondered with dread what her daughter was trying to keep from the boy this time.

Sneakily she peered into the kitchen, carefully so as not to be seen, and observed her grandson sitting at the table with pencil in hand, gesturing towards the piece of paper he'd been writing on.

With a frown Frankie sat, his eyebrows knit in frustration. One hand on the frying pan handle and the other holding a spatula, Lizzie, who was frying chicken, held the same expression looking down at her son.

Nell could see that Lizzie's eyes were fighting back tears as she shook her head and looked away from Frankie.

Frankie determinedly tugged on her sleeve and formed the word 'why' with his lips. The young boy appeared as if he could have, he would have shouted the very word out loud and clear from the mountaintops. _Why???_

Defensively she stood, eyes fixed on the ceiling, and her face showed no hint of backing down. Impatiently she set the spatula down and signed, "I'm not going to tell you his name. It's not important, Frankie. I've already told you everything you need to know."

Frankie's shoulders angrily slumped and he laid his head on his hands on the table.

Nell's heart went out to him. For the millionth time, she silently cursed Davey. He was dead now, of course, and her feelings toward him were disrespectful but still…how could she not be angry? If only he'd been the man that he should've been; the father that he should've been, then her grandson wouldn't be looking for a father figure. If only…

With a sad shake of her head, Nell continued to watch silently as Lizzie quickly wiped tears from her frustrated eyes. Her daughter had that look on her face. It was the look of helplessness. It was a look that she'd once again let her son down. Nell's own face had held that same expression many times in her life. It was the worst feeling in the world, she thought. No, her beautiful, strong daughter shouldn't have to feel this way.

She searched her mind for a solution but then watched as her daughter heaved another sigh and took a seat in the chair beside him. Lizzie nudged Frankie to get his attention, but he stubbornly shook his head. Next, she laid a motherly hand on his back to allay him.

Frankie looked up then, his lips were forming a small pout.

Lizzie made eye contact with him and continued to soothe him, speaking in a lower tone, "I told you he was Marie's brother," she paused, looking up, and tried to find the right words. She met his eyes again then continued, "He was just a stranger to us, Frankie. He was a nice man and he did a huge favor by pretending to be your daddy…"

Frankie's sad gaze turned downward, but Lizzie tapped him again to bring his eyes back up to hers.

"It's over, Frankie. He has his own life. He's a busy man. _That's _why you don't need to know his name," she told him earnestly then with renewed resolve she stood straight up and looked at him sternly. "And you don't need to be writing him any letters."

It was painful for Nell to watch. At first every fiber of her being had objected to that man, had objected to the whole idea of hiring someone to act as Frankie's father. But as she saw how happy it made Frankie, she began to have second thoughts. Of course, her mind was still full of doubts about it and him but Nell couldn't help but feel that this man had breathed some life back into her daughter.

Clearly she could see that her grandson could not stop thinking about him. And as much as Lizzie wouldn't admit it, the stranger, Patrick had gotten under her skin. Nell knew her daughter. She wasn't likely to give any man a chance ever again. Sure she could go on and deny it, but she'd end up sad and alone…just like her mum.

_No_, Nell thought, this is definitely not the life she wanted for her daughter.

The sound of Lizzie's stern voice snapped her attention back. "You are not to give this letter to Marie or her brother," she stated, her eyes serious as death.

Frankie looked down at the letter and didn't move.

Lizzie kneeled down beside her son, pulling his chin towards the direction of her face.

"Do you understand, Frankie?"

He looked as though he was holding back tears. Nell took a breath, mentally forcing herself to stay out of it. After a long moment the disheartened boy nodded.

Lizzie said nothing else but only stood back up, ruffled the boy's hair, and picked up her spatula, poking at some of the chicken pieces that weren't burnt.

Frankie was by no means a defiant boy but now he was visibly angry. He stood up sharply, the force of it knocking the chair away from him, and exaggeratedly picked up the letter he'd written.

The snap of the paper caught Lizzie's attention and as she turned around she caught her son dropping the letter into the wastebasket. His eyes looked sadly down and he headed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Lizzie winced at the disturbing sound, and shoved the frying pan away from her nearly causing it to fall from the stove. She stood there silently; her hand gripping the spatula tightly and her eyes were glazing over with tears.

And to Nell's dismay, that look appeared on Lizzie's face once again.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Hello?" Marie called out as she knocked at the door of his beach house. There was no reply and she checked again to make sure his car was there then peered in the window to observe it being perfectly empty.

She turned the handle, opened the unlocked door, and called out, "Patrick?"

He was there, Marie was certain of it. The man had been impossibly unreachable for the past few days and Marie was sure that it was due in part to her reproachful phone call.

After a few days had passed Marie had calmed down a bit. She realized that her brother hadn't set out to hurt Lizzie.

After making her way through the empty interior she caught sight of Patrick through the kitchen window. He was sitting outside in the sand staring blankly out at the ocean.

Marie huddled up inside her jacket as she approached him, her boots kicking up sand as she walked. His mind seemed to be somewhere else as he didn't even hear her coming up behind him.

"Glad to see yer still alive, Patrick."

His posture straightened slightly as he looked up into Marie's liquid blue eyes. "Aye, Marie. Still alive."

"And not at all dramatic, I see." With a smirk she sat down beside her brother and gave him a nudge. His turquoise eyes lit up and he playfully nudged her back.

Still he was silent and continued to look out at the waves, fixing his attention on the pattern the water left on the sand.

Marie knew that her brother's silence was never a good thing. "So how are things, Patty?"

Patrick looked down and laughed, shaking his head. "Marie," he said calmly but then his voice began to get louder. "How many times have I told you not to call me Patty?!" he asked her frustratingly, his hands gesturing up to the heavens.

Marie smiled. "Finally! A reaction! I was starting to wonder whether you were actually alive or not," she laughed.

He glanced sidelong at her catching her playfully concerned expression. "Things are fine." Clearing his throat, he continued, "I've decided I'm going to keep Eddie. He was struggling, but I think he's going to do just fine."

Marie nodded along as Patrick spoke. Hearing him talk about work was better than him not saying anything at all so she listened attentively as he continued on for about five more minutes.

Then there was silence again. Patrick knew Marie didn't make a thirty minute drive just to hear about work. Marie was his big sister and he knew that no matter what squabbles occurred between them that they would always be there for each other.

"How are you, Marie?"

"Good. Everything's good."

"And Ally?"

"Ally's good too, Patrick. But he's not what I came over here to talk to you about."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me Gretchen's been over there again?"

She shook her head. "No," she said and hesitated. As he looked at her with his concerned turquoise eyes, she found herself asking the question that she told herself she wouldn't ask. "Patrick, if you feel the need to avoid her so much, then why don't you just stop seeing her? She's not nearly good enough for you."

He let out a low laugh and shook his head. "You never did like her, Marie."

With her eyes opened widely, she exclaimed incredulously, "Well, that's an understatement."

Maybe it was his guilty conscience, or the fact that he hadn't spoken to Gretchen for days, or that he just plain resented his sister's hostility towards her. Patrick felt compelled to defend her. "Look, Marie. You don't know her. It's true that there are times when she's not-"

"A good person," Marie offered.

With a raised eyebrow he finished his sentence, "The easiest person to get along with." Patrick looked at Marie's amused face. "And I know she doesn't-"

"Have any manners whatsoever."

He shot a glare at her. "Always play well with others," he told her as she nodded her head with a mock understanding. "Marie, what you don't understand is-"

"Why yer still with her?"

At that very moment, to Marie, Patrick looked just like he did when they were kids just before he socked her square on her arm. His eyes no longer held the playful glint, and his mouth was set in angry line, and she could've sworn that he was balling up his fist…

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," Marie laughed.

"Thank you, Marie," he told her and looked away, shaking his head. "She's had a hard life."

"So have we, Patrick, but we don't-"

"No, Marie. We lost our parents when we were teenagers. And we had Nana to raise us and take care of us until we moved out. Gretchen…" he stopped, unsure of whether he should continue. Gretchen's past was something he'd never discussed with anyone else.

Marie's blue eyes looked at him curiously. If there was a reason to explain why she was the way she was, Marie was certain she wanted to hear it. "Go on."

"Gretchen's was six years old when her baby sister died from drinking ammonia."

Involuntarily Marie's jaw dropped open. "That's sad but-"

Patrick cut in, "Then her alcoholic mum became chronically depressed and committed suicide." He registered the look of shock on Marie's face and continued. "Gretchen was eight years old, Marie, when she found her mother's dead body laying on the bathroom floor beside an empty bottle of pills."

It was silent then as Patrick felt he needed to allow his sister a moment to digest all the painful information he'd just divulged, and secretly hoped that Marie would feel a small stab of guilt for the way she talked about Gretchen.

Judging by the disturbed look on Marie's face he figured he could continue,"So, Gretchen grew up without a mother while her father neglected her but still found time to yell and gamble."

Marie let out a long breath and shook her head sadly. "That's so-"

"Terrible? Yes, I know."

"I just can't believe that-"

"You were so mean to hate her all these years?" Patrick offered.

Marie gave him a sheepish smile and nudged him and once again he nudged her back.

"I know I shouldn't ask, but how are Lizzie and Frankie? Have you heard from them?"

Her blue eyes looked up thoughtfully. "They've stopped in once for chips. Lizzie said she liked her new job."

There was another painful silence.

She took notice of his somber expression. "Listen, Patrick, I'm sorry about the other day, on the phone. I shouldn't have given you such a hard time about Lizzie," Marie declared, searching his eyes for forgiveness…or acknowledgement.

He said nothing so she continued, "It wasn't yer fault. It was just a dance, for Christ's sake. She saw too much into it," she told him plainly.

It didn't escape Marie's attention that her brother would not look at her.

"Patrick? That's _all_ there was to it, right?" As she took in Patrick's guilty expression, she cursed and looked away. "Patrick! What were you thinking?!" she reprimanded with another nudge.

His eyes turned to her then, his expression sad. "It's not what you think, Marie. Lizzie really got to me… and Frankie too. I can't stop thinking about either of them."

Understanding filled her eyes and she nodded. With a sigh she let her eyes wander to the seagulls flying overhead.

"What was it that Nana used to say, Marie?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Be happy and don't hurt anyone."

"Guess I've really blown that one, eh?"

"Yah, Patrick, I'm sure that Nana's frowning down at you from the heavens," Marie laughed as she caught Patrick warily looking up at the sky. "I think that she would want for you to be happy. We both want you to be happy," she stated and glanced at her watch. She took notice of the hour, stood up, and began to dust herself of the sand.

Patrick smiled gratefully at his sister and stood. "Do you think Lizzie hates me?"

Marie had to smile at her brother's vulnerability. "Nah…well, maybe a little."

His face became serious again and Marie laughed.

"I'm sure that you could help her to see past it."

"How?"

"Yer a smart one, I'm sure you could figure it out," she told him zipping up her jacket. "I've gotta go."

"Thanks, Marie, I appreciate you coming all the way over here."

"Right. There was a reason," she told him, reaching into her pocket and pulling out an envelope. "This is for you." Gingerly, she handed him the small white envelope.

With furrowed brows, he accepted it. "What's this, Marie?" he asked as she quickly began to make her way back to her car, the breeze causing her to shiver. Like a puppy, he followed behind her.

"It's from Frankie."

Patrick stopped for a moment, the look of shock apparent on his face. For a moment he just stood there trapped like a fly in a web, his brain seemed unable to move his feet forward. "But, Marie…Frankie?" he stammered.

Marie turned around. "Open it, Patrick. There's still hope."

Patrick looked from the envelope to his sister and back again.

Marie smiled reassuringly. "Frankie didn't give me that letter to give to you."

"Who did?"

A wide smile spread across Marie's face. "Who do you think?" she asked, leaving Patrick behind with his little surprise.

* * *

The envelope looked small in his large hands. He ran a careful thumb across the white enclosure and his heart felt like it was pounding. Patrick held his breath as he ripped open the seal and unfolded the letter. His eyes couldn't read the words quickly enough. 

_Dear Friend,_

_I hope you are well. I keep wanting to write letters because it is a habit of mine. Ma said we'll probably not see you again. I've been having a hard time at school lately. I keep thinking about my da. Ma told me what he did. My best friend, Catriona says she would hate her da if he did that. I told her I couldn't hate him. I didn't even know him. Now he's gone. I know he cared about me though._

_I had fun with you those two days and am hoping that soon you will spend some more time with us. You want to know something? I think Ma kind of fancies you too. Write back if you like._

_Your Friend,_

_Frankie_

* * *

As Marie pulled out of Patrick's driveway, she found that she was quite pleased with herself. She'd certainly accomplished what she'd set out to do. 

Even the sight of Gretchen's silvery blue Lexus pulling into Patrick's driveway couldn't spoil her mood.

Frankie's letter had been just what he needed. Marie wasn't aware of the contents of the letter but still felt sure that it would have a huge impact on Patrick.

The blond shot her a disdainful look as she exited her vehicle. But Marie didn't care. With a happy smile Marie pleasantly waved goodbye and drove away.

The letter would make all the difference in the world. Marie was sure of it.

And tomorrow morning she would be sure to thank Nell for it.

* * *

A/N: Thanks as always for your feedback! More to come sometime next week. Thanks for reading and please review! 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

He didn't know what it was. Lately this restaurant seemed to be a breeding ground for break-ups. As long as the couple didn't make a scene or their angry raised voices didn't disturb the other patrons, he was perfectly fine with it.

Although, he had to wonder what it was that prompted his customers to come here to end their relationships. Was it the cozy atmosphere? Or maybe it was the soft music or candle light that set them in the mood, he thought wryly. To be fair, though, this restaurant had seen its share of many happy proposals and announcements as well.

Silently he watched the couple seated in a secluded corner. They were of particular interest to him; well, the woman, really. In fact he could hardly take his eyes off of her.

Gretchen Owen.

Blond, wickedly beautiful, smart, and sexy.

Her flawless face was twisted angrily into a frown and he could see tears begin to cloud her eyes. The man across from Gretchen looked apologetically at her and continued speaking in a low tone.

Black streaks of mascara ran down her eyes, and the scowl on her lovely face didn't do much to deter him from her beauty. Fascinated, he still watched as the man reached for her arm as though trying to console her. She practically growled as she angrily yanked her arm far away from him. The violent rising and falling of her large bosom was apparent even from where he stood.

As he watched the man continue to console her, he felt sorry for the blond beauty.

He felt as though he'd known her his whole life. She didn't know him, but he'd always admired her spunk. Gretchen was well-known and not liked in this town and some were aware of her dark past.

Most thought she was rude and hateful. They didn't see her as he saw her. Besides her beauty and sex appeal she'd been strong and driven. She'd not allowed herself to fall into the trap of giving in to her past. Her passion and spirit had demanded that she rise above it, not turning to a life of alcohol or drugs.

He could see underneath that churlish exterior there was a very special, loving, and passionate woman.

With an amused smirk he watched as Gretchen emptied her glass of water on the man's head. The man was silent, his mouth was set in a line as he took his cloth napkin to dry his face.

People began to take notice, and it seemed as soon as she'd established her audience she stood up dramatically and screamed at the top of her lungs for him to leave.

The man said nothing; his greenish eyes trained on the entryway. The man, the fool, the coward who couldn't keep a woman as spirited and passionate as Gretchen Owen made his way out of the restaurant and didn't look back.

_Good riddance._

Gretchen collapsed then back into her chair, a mess of tears and sobs as the other patrons watched her pitifully.

He couldn't help but smile. She definitely had a flair for drama.

But then so did he.

As the server silently dropped the bill on her table with no show of concern whatsoever, he shook his head. In a flash, he was at her side lifting up the bill gingerly with graceful fingers.

"I'll take care of this for you."

Her fingers curled angrily into the napkin as she wiped at her tears, and her eyes made their way up the man's tailored grey suit up to his perfectly combed, light brown hair. His striking hazel eyes bore into her, and all of a sudden she felt vulnerable as though she'd been sitting there in the nude. It would've appeared that way as his lips turned upward to a knowing curve.

His boyish handsomeness stopped more tears in their tracks and she nodded affirmatively up to him, allowing a pout to fall over her full lips.

_It was too perfect_. He couldn't have planned it better himself. Already crazy about this woman, now she was here before him and completely in a vulnerable state- on his turf.

He leaned down slightly towards her and in a low voice he told her, "He was not nearly good enough for you."

"What the hell do you know?" she bit out, slightly offended. Gretchen did not need his pity. Her green eyes narrowed into vicious little slits.

"I know," he told her confidently, his deep voice oozing of masculinity and a hint of sensuality, "that a beautiful, desirable woman such as yourself deserves better."

Gretchen couldn't help but smile. The cheek of this man was very…endearing. His confidence attracted her like a magnet. "Who the hell are you?"

"I am the owner of this restaurant, Miss Owen. My name is Thomas. Thomas Scheffield."

* * *

"R-i-c-k," Lizzie uttered under her breath putting the final curve to the last letter with the dark blue icing. Next she picked up the tube of lavender and very carefully formed the rosettes, paying special attention that the color flowed with the rest of the design. 

With a proud smile, Lizzie set the tube down and wiped her fingers on her apron, breathing a happy sigh.

Her new boss, Maureen stood beside her with a pleased expression. In her thirty-something years in the business, she'd never seen someone with such talent. This was only Lizzie's second week and everyday she'd impressed her.

Maureen's tone was perky and her voice reminded Lizzie of her late grandmother. In fact, she thought, so did her kind brown eyes, and her long, silvery hair the way it was placed in a bun atop her head. The gentle, stocky woman went out of her way to make Lizzie feel welcome and accepted at her new job.

"The rosettes are beautiful, Lizzie," she complimented. "And I like the way the lavender rosettes look with the dark blue of the letters. Nice touch."

Lizzie hadn't felt so proud in well…a very long time. She really enjoyed her work, and was pleased to be praised for it.

"And calligraphy, eh, Lizzie? You're getting fancy on me," the older lady told her, bumping elbows with her. "It's beautiful. A pure work of art, so it is!"

"Thanks, Maureen," Lizzie replied as she reached a large cake box.

"It's gonna be a right pity that this beauty has to be cut up."

As Lizzie set the box down beside the cake she noticed a small frown overcome the woman's motherly features.

Maureen's eyebrow shot up. "A little distracted though, are we, hen?"

Puzzled, Lizzie's eyes searched the designs on the cake. She didn't see any errors.

"What was the man's name, Lizzie? Matthew, right?" she let out an amused snort. "It's supposed to say 'Happy Birthday, Matthew.'"

_Right_, Lizzie thought, but her eyes widened in horror as she read the elegantly scripted words on the cake - 'Happy Birthday, Mattrick.' Her mouth dropped open and she felt an embarrassing flush rise to her cheeks. "Good God!" she exclaimed, her hands landing on her cheeks.

"No worries, love," Maureen soothed, "just scrape off the r-i-c-k and replace it with h-e-w."

Lizzie could barely look at Maureen, her face burning hot with embarrassment. This was her first mistake since she'd been hired. And as she hurriedly retrieved a knife to scrape the letters she silently cursed herself for letting her personal life interfere with her work.

After all, that was one of the reasons she left Marie's. Although Lizzie did miss it a little. More than anything she missed the sisterly connection she shared with Marie. She also missed…no, she wouldn't allow herself to even think it.

Since her disagreement the day before with Frankie, Patrick's name seemed to follow her everywhere she went. Whether it was an actor on television, or the name of a character she read in a book that morning, or even a little boy who'd been in earlier demanding that his mum buy him a rather large chocolate chip cookie, Lizzie just plain couldn't seem to escape that bloody name.

A quick glance up to the clock revealed that it was close to quitting time. All Lizzie looked forward to was getting home, plopping on the couch, and getting off of her aching feet.

Then there was Frankie. Lizzie hated the idea that her sweet nine-and-a–half-year-old was still mad at her but she knew she had done the right thing by ordering him not to deliver that letter. Maybe she could make it up to him somehow…like going for some ice cream after tea, or planning a picnic at his favorite spot this weekend…

An odd feeling came over her just then. Maureen had gone to the back in search of some food coloring and Lizzie had just finished the 'w' on Matthew's name when she had a peculiar feeling she was being watched. But as her eyes looked up to the windows she saw nothing but the sidewalks and road…as usual. There weren't even any shoppers or passersby.

Lizzie shrugged her shoulders with a smile and lay the tube of icing down on the counter.

But as she unfastened the box to fit the cake, there was that feeling again. Quickly she looked up this time, out the windows, side to side, even as silly as it sounded, she turned clear around looking behind her.

There was nothing.

Puzzled, she let out a long breath and was very happy that she would be going home soon. Very happy.

* * *

_That was a close one,_ he thought. _Too close._

His back was against the stucco wall of the video store beside the bakery. Patrick's nerves were shaken. Here he'd almost been caught gazing at her and he felt like some kind of stalker.

His body involuntarily leaned inward once again because somehow his mind couldn't convince it that he shouldn't be there staring at her at all. _What was he waiting for_, he asked himself. Gretchen was out of the picture. He had every right to go in there and…

_Go in there and what?_ That nagging question had been eating at him since he left the office early to come here.

It was an awful feeling. He'd anticipated walking in with a big smile, greeting Lizzie, and then sadly departing with a red cheek. Lizzie hated him, he just knew it.

He'd asked her to trust him. Maybe she shouldn't have, but now Patrick found that he no longer trusted himself. Before he'd met Lizzie he'd been safe. His life had been a constant state of dull predictability, and he knew that he didn't have his heart to answer to.

But then one look into Lizzie's eyes shattered all of that. Her sweet voice penetrated his mind, and now just the thought that she really did hate him made his heart feel like it was going to burst into a thousand little pieces.

He wanted desperately to see her, but he was a wreck._ Just breathe_, Patrick, he told himself. One hand reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. With a smile he was grateful he had that. His other shaky hand managed to retrieve his lighter and light one up.

His smoking was not a heavy addiction but rather just a way to relieve stress. And now as he inhaled the smoke, and let it blow soothingly back out, he felt a bit calmer already.

_Yes_, he thought as he looked out toward the view of the harbor,_ a couple more puffs, and I'll go in there and…_

A sudden tug on his sleeve interrupted his thoughts. Patrick looked down and to his surprise into Frankie's smiling face.

This was a very pleasant, unexpected surprise and he couldn't help but catch Frankie's infectious smile. "Well hello, Frankie," he greeted, putting out his cigarette and dumping it into a nearby trash can.

The boy's eyes met his excitedly and he mouthed the word 'hello'. He pulled his backpack off, unzipped it, pulling out a small notebook and pencil.

"What is your name?" he wrote.

A very awkward feeling passed through Patrick's whole body at that moment. The boy didn't even know his name. Even the letter, he now recalled, had been addressed 'Dear Friend'. His name; something as simple as telling Frankie his name in itself was admitting to the fact that he'd lied and even though he was aware that the boy knew the truth it still made Patrick feel horribly deceitful.

_Just say it_, he thought as the boy looked up at him curiously.

"I'm Patrick," he told Frankie simply and with that the boy nodded. "Look, Frankie," he began, his conscience getting the better of him, "I'm sorry I pretended…"

The tug of Frankie's small hand on Patrick's black leather jacket interrupted him, and the boy simply shook his head as though to convey that no apology was necessary.

Patrick breathed a sigh of relief and noticed Frankie scribbling furiously on his notebook.

"Are you here to see my mum?" he wrote.

The question caught him by surprise. "I…er…well…" Patrick stammered, but before he could get any more out, Frankie had grabbed one of his arms and pulled him towards the door of the bakery.

Lizzie had just come in from the back and surveyed the counter for dirty utensils when the sound of the bakery door opening caught her attention. As she noticed her son walk in, she gave him a pleasant smile. Horror soon took over her face when she noticed Patrick walking in behind him.

There were too many things going on in her head at once. As Frankie approached her at the front counter, her eyebrow was raised, and she had to close her mouth to keep it from hanging open. She looked back and forth from Frankie to Patrick and shook her head. Lizzie was angry. Her son had blatantly disobeyed her. And here was Patrick in her new place of employment looking at her with a guilty expression.

She ignored the flutter of her heart at the sight of his charming smile and faced her son.

"We're going to talk about this later," she hissed, the lines on her forehead wrinkled in anger.

Frankie's smile faded to confusion as Lizzie thrust a banana nut muffin at him.

"You have homework?" she asked him, forcing her eyes to stay focused on Frankie. She was not ready to look at Patrick…not just yet. Frankie nodded his reply. "Then go to it," she told him, gesturing to one of the small tables.

Patrick watched the scene very puzzled. _Something was not right._

A pink flush appeared on her cheeks and she looked up apologetically at the impossibly handsome man across from her. "I'm sorry. I told him not to deliver that letter."

Patrick's mind was reeling. Somehow or some way he'd been set up…and so had she. Clearly Lizzie had not given Marie the letter. He decided it was best to play it safe. After all, he told himself, he would've ended up here on his own eventually…_maybe._

A smile tugged at his lips and a look of confusion was apparent on his face. "What letter?"

Lizzie's face went blank and a stab of guilt tore into her as her eyes took in the sight of her son pulling out his homework, shyly eating the pastry, and sitting there with a sad expression. "Oh, oh…I…what brings you here?" she asked with a nervous laugh. One of three things, she thought. Either his girlfriend, his sister, or the fact that her son had probably dragged him in.

"Well…er…" he cleared his throat. "I was in town," he told her, noting that the deep brown of her eyes seemed to pull him away from any sort of rational speech.

Her eyes went to Frankie and she took note of how the boy's own eyes couldn't seem to help themselves from darting in this direction. "Oh."

"Lizzie, I was hoping that we could go somewhere and talk."

Her eyes involuntarily narrowed at him. "Did you now?" Before he could reply, she continued. "I don't think that's necessary, Patrick."

It was a rejection, but at that moment the only thing Patrick's mind could register was that Lizzie had said his name. Her gentle voice had finally spoken it. He found himself entranced by the way she said it, relishing the sweet tone of the two syllables.

The meaning of her words finally hit him. "Why not?"

"Because I'm perfectly happy here."

"No, Lizzie," he responded, noticing an older, heavyset woman coming from the back room, watching them. Patrick walked over to the side, Lizzie followed him, and spoke in a lower voice. "I wanted to talk about us."

Her heart was beating so loud that she was sure he could hear it. His turquoise eyes seemed to be drilling a hole in her heart. _Us_, he'd said. _No,_ she thought, _it would be utter_ _madness to go through all that again_. She wasn't going to allow herself to be foolish the way she was two weeks ago. _It wasn't worth it._

"It's not a good idea."

Patrick couldn't say that he didn't expect this but he continued anyway. "Lizzie, please, if we can just sit somewhere and talk…"

Lizzie looked behind her confirming that their conversation was indeed being observed. She faced Maureen. "I'll just be a minute," she told her and proceeded to gesture to Patrick to follow her outside the bakery door.

The door shut behind her and she faced Patrick standing tall and handsome in front of her. She took a breath and closed her eyes to find the right words.

"First I want to tell you that I'm so grateful for the favor you did for Frankie, for us both. It really meant a lot to him…as you can see," Lizzie told him, then both looked through the glass to see Frankie watching them intently. "But, I don't know you, Patrick. You're not the man I thought you were."

_That hurt_. "It's true, Lizzie, and I'm sorry. Give me a chance. Get to know me," he requested, his turquoise eyes pleading.

"What about your girlfriend?" she asked almost vehemently.

His eyes were dead serious as he spoke, "I'm not with her anymore."

A feeling of happiness swept over her at that moment, but she reminded herself that he was asking the impossible of her. The sound of a car passing caught her eyes and she watched as it headed out towards the harbor.

"I'm sorry too, Patrick. From where we started we have nowhere to go," she told him sadly. It hurt her just to say the words.

The pain was visible in his eyes and he slid his hands into his pocket. He focused on the pavement beneath him and sighed. "Lizzie...I-"

She cut in, "I'm sorry. Please, I need you to go now."

"Lizzie?" he said again, but nothing followed. What else could he say? His mind was completely blank.

"I have to get back to work," she told him softly, involuntarily memorizing the strong set of his jaw and the perfect straightness of his nose. Lizzie forced herself not to look into his eyes. It would be too much to see the pain she'd left in their bluish-green depths.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye then…" he uttered. Patrick couldn't believe he was saying those words.

She pulled open the door, headed inside, and looked at him sadly. "Goodbye, Patrick."

* * *

A/N: What?! Aw c'mon, you knew in your hearts it wasn't going to be that easy! Stay with me, please...and review! 


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you so much for your feedback. I love you people! Hope you enjoy this one and please review!

Chapter 9

Lizzie stepped back into the bakery with an ache in her heart. Her nine and a half-year-old stood before her, his young eyebrows furrowed, and to her dismay he wouldn't even look at her. Holding tight onto his backpack, Frankie walked past her out the door.

She turned backward, her eyes sadly trained on him as he hurried off in the direction of their flat. With a sigh, her eyes turned to the floor as she made her way back behind the counter.

She knew she'd done the right thing.

Why, she wondered, did the right thing have to hurt so badly?

Maureen was drying off some pans and considered the woman beside her. "Who was that, Lizzie?"

Her attention snapped up to face the kind eyes of her boss. She gave her an embarrassed smile. "Oh, that was my former boss."

The clicking of Maureen's shoes came closer to Lizzie and the woman faced her, brown eyes wide with amusement. "It's none of my business, love, but you had a boss that looked like him and you left?!"

Lizzie laughed, grabbing a damp cloth to wipe the counter.

"He's a right handsome fellow, so he is."

With a nod, Lizzie agreed. "Maureen, it's complicated."

The older woman let it go and went to the back to check on the oven.

Lizzie wiped and wiped. Her thoughts were a thousand miles away and she couldn't help but feel that wherever Patrick went, he probably left a trail of bleeding hearts.

* * *

_From where we started we have nowhere to go._

Lizzie had said that, and Patrick couldn't stop his mind from playing it over and over again. As much as he loved listening to the sweet timbre of her voice, he hated those cruel words.

They were so final.

Patrick rolled the window down as he drove, allowing the fresh air to blow in and renew his senses. His eyes were fixed on the road, but his heart was back there with Lizzie. It was still another good twenty minutes before he reached his home and as he turned to enter the onramp, he searched his mind.

There was something he was missing. Something in those words he felt as though she'd given him some kind of clue. He wondered if he would ever decipher it. There was definitely something there in her eyes, he remembered. He hadn't imagined the way that her eyes would've shone so brightly if she hadn't been happy to see him. Or that her face would've shown such pain at rejecting him.

_No_, he thought. _There was definitely something there._

_From where we started we have nowhere to go._

It sounded like a challenge. And Patrick couldn't resist it.

No, he thought with a mischievous smile, he was not ready to give up just yet.

* * *

_Day One_

She grabbed her purse and flung it over her shoulder glancing around to make sure that she'd completed all her tasks before she left the bakery.

Lizzie was happy to be going home. She was still emotionally exhausted from her encounter with Patrick the day before. It had been a busy day and she looked forward to getting home and kicking off her shoes. Satisfied that everything was finished, she called out, "Bye Maureen."

"Cheerio."

But when Lizzie headed out the door she gasped in surprise as she found Patrick and Frankie kneeling on the sidewalk in front of the bakery holding large, colorful signs. Their puppy dog expressions were identical and their lips were formed into small pouts.

In large letters, Patrick held a sign that read, "Go Out With Me."

In slightly smaller letters, in Frankie's handwriting, her son held a sign that read, "Please."

Lizzie gaped at the sight of them, her brows knit in frustration and quickly walked past in the direction of her flat.

She shook her head and muttered to herself that the man couldn't take 'no' for an answer. Then she wondered if any woman had ever told him that word.

The very thought angered her and she picked up her pace until she'd entered her building.

* * *

Marie watched with a surprised smile from her shop window. "And me, " she told Cindy with a smirk, "without my camera."

* * *

_Day Two_

Lizzie was tending to the unusually large queue when a young uniformed man appeared in the bakery with a rather beautiful arrangement of red roses. The fragrance was so delightfully strong that she could smell them from a few feet away where he stood at the counter.

"Delivery for Lizzie Morrison."

"Right," Lizzie answered surprisedly. In her whole life she'd never received flowers before. The sight of the roses absolutely melted her insides but she knew that Patrick was still stubbornly trying to pursue her. Lizzie's hands were tending to her customer and handing the woman her change and as Maureen accepted the delivery for her and set them in the corner, her eyes couldn't resist looking at the gorgeous blooms.

Then of course there was the little white envelope that accompanied the arrangement.

She wanted right then and there to close up shop just so that she could read the contents of that tiny little card.

The next customer appeared before her and put in his order and all Lizzie could think was _roses, roses, roses_…_card_…_card…card_. _What did it say_?

Customer after customer she tended, faster than a speeding bullet. She imagined if there were an event in the Olympics for tending to customers quickly, she would've won the gold.

Inside she was dying of curiosity and she couldn't stop thinking about that bloody card.

Get this man a muffin, that woman wanted a dozen cookies, another wanted to pick up their cake...and still Lizzie thought, _roses, roses, roses, card, card, card, Patrick, Patrick_…but as she wrapped up the cake box and handed it to the customer she also realized that it didn't matter what the card said. Her impregnable resolve would not be broken.

An hour later when the bakery was finally empty an excited squeal escaped Lizzie's lips and Maureen watched her with an amused smile. Lizzie's heart was beating a million beats per second and her feet couldn't take her to the arrangement quickly enough.

Her nose enveloped the sweet fragrance of the roses and she snatched the card from its holder. Her long slender fingers held the tiny envelope but she paused. She reminded herself that no matter what the tiny card had written on it, it didn't change anything.

"For Christ's sake, Lizzie, open up the bloody card!" exclaimed Maureen who was waiting anxiously behind her trying to get the best possible view of the envelope's contents.

Lizzie exhaled and with lightning speed she pulled the little card from the envelope and gasped in horror, holding it down against her apron.

"What, Lizzie? What does it say?"

Lizzie looked away and handed Maureen the card. Maureen arranged her glasses on her nose and laughed out loud. It was a loud, belly laugh that seemed to echo throughout the whole bakery. "I can't stand it! I can't stand it," she exclaimed, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Lizzie was not amused as Maureen handed her the card back. She shook her head as she looked at the card again.

It read, "So, does this mean you're not going to have my babies?" and beside it was a little frowning face with Patrick's name underneath.

"The cheek of him, Maureen! Can you believe him?"

"Oh Lizzie, for Christ's sake, if you don't go out with him, I bloody will!" the older lady joked and headed to the back to clean up.

Shaking her head she placed the card back down on the counter and made her way back to the roses. She could still hear Maureen giggling back there.

Patrick. He was impossible. He didn't ever seem to give up.

Then she recalled the words again. _Does this mean you're not going to have my babies_? And that blasted little sad face.

Then she couldn't help but laugh.

* * *

_Day Three_

Lizzie hesitantly walked into the bakery that morning wondering what, if anything, Patrick had planned. As she unlocked the door she wondered if maybe a bucket of chocolates wasn't going to fall over her head, or if rose petals would be scattered all over the floor. A big part of her didn't want to admit that she was completely charmed by all of it.

Another even bigger part of her knew that it had to stop.

Entering the bakery she flipped on all the lights and saw that everything was as it should be. But for the rest of the day, she was in an unnerving state of anticipation. Even Maureen had been looking around as if expecting something surprising to happen.

So far so good, she thought as she headed back up to the front counter after her last break.

No deliveries, no signs, no surprises…no Patrick.

When it was time to go home she breathed a sigh of relief, removed her apron, checking the pockets as always to be sure she hadn't left anything there. To her surprise she felt a card. She pulled the envelope from her pocket and immediately removed the card.

_No matter what, it doesn't change anything_, she thought.

The front cover had an adorable picture of a big brown teddy bear holding a small pink heart in its fuzzy clutches. Lizzie couldn't help but smile. She opened it up and the card was blank except for his writing.

Maureen had taken notice of what Lizzie was doing and joined her quickly at the counter as she read.

It read, "Roses are red, violets are blue, ah hell, will you just go out with me already?"

Lizzie couldn't help it and laughed out loud. Maureen caught the enchanted look in Lizzie's eyes and smile. Quickly Lizzie caught herself and became serious.

"I'm not going out with him," Lizzie insisted to the woman.

Maureen pushed her glasses up closer to her eyes and caught some tiny print way at the bottom. She couldn't quite make it out. "What's that say, love?" she asked, pointing.

The letters were so tiny that Lizzie had to squint to read them. She read it out loud, "Look to your right."

Both ladies' heads snapped to the right and there was a medium-sized brown teddy bear now sitting on the counter next to the register. It was holding a heart and matched the one on the card.

Gaping she approached the adorable furry stuffed bear, unable to suppress the smile on her lips. "When did this get here?" she asked, picking up the soft, fuzzy bear, and couldn't resist pressing it into an embrace. But as soon as she lifted it, her eyes followed the small slip of paper underneath it that fell swiftly to the checkered tile floor.

Puzzled she knelt down to pick up the paper. Very plainly it said, "Look up."

She snapped her head up quickly to find Patrick smiling down at her from the other side of the counter. His smile was wide, and the glint in his turquoise eyes almost made her melt. Her arms clutched the bear tightly and she almost got a head rush from standing so quickly.

Unsure as to whether her head was spinning from rising, or from the adorable teddy bear in her arms, or from the downright charming smile he was giving her; pearly white teeth and all, Lizzie felt her resolve begin to fade.

And if it weren't for Maureen's loud sneeze, Lizzie might've stayed that way, caught up in the moment, charmed by all his romantic notions, mesmerized by the bluish color blended somewhere in the depths of his green eyes.

"Bless you," Lizzie and Patrick both said, turning their heads to Maureen.

Maureen giggled at the sight of him, feeling her own legs a little wobbly, facing the stubborn, handsome man who was giving it his all to court Lizzie. Her laugh reminded her of a nervous schoolgirl. "Thanks," she replied and promptly headed to the back.

Lizzie was grateful for the sneeze, though. She felt that she needed a bit of a reality check to bring her back to her senses.

"Hello, Lizzie."

"Hello, Patrick," she replied and looked away from his eyes, concentrating her focus on the cuddly bear. "Thanks for the teddy bear," she told him gathering her purse and doublechecking that everything was clear on the counters. The thought never occurred to her to not accept it.

She leaned in towards the back room and called out her goodbye to Maureen and headed out towards Patrick. With a sigh she prepared herself. She knew what to say, she just didn't know how she was going to say it.

Her eyes looked up into his handsome face and she forced them away to the door. "What are you doing, Patrick?"

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Well, I thought it was obvious what I'm doing. I'm trying to get you to go out with me."

Lizzie shook her head. "We've been over this. I'm not going out with you. The roses, the bear, the sign, they're all very sweet, but you're wasting your time. I mean, you own three restaurants, Patrick, shouldn't you be busy with them?"

His eyes turned serious as he looked down at her, willing her eyes to meet his. "I'm a businessman, Lizzie. I only pursue things I know are worth pursuing."

She shook her head again and walked right past him through the door, still clutching the teddy bear.

"Wait, Lizzie…" he called to her following her out the door.

"I'm not a business venture, Patrick, and I've already told you," she began with a sigh, "From where we started, we have nowhere to go. It's all been a lie with you. There's no future for us. So please, you have to stop with the gifts and the signs…"

Patrick was silent. Her words may have upset him if he hadn't been concentrating so hard on the meaning.

..._started…nowhere to go…all been a lie…no future…_

Sadly she looked at him, he hadn't said a word for at least a minute, and as much as she hated saying these things to him, her mind told her it was the right thing to do. She put her hand on his arm to get his attention. "Patrick?"

It hit him then with the force of an explosion and a laugh escaped his lips.

"Right," he told her. She thought he was for the madhouse as he continued. "You're absolutely right, Lizzie." He shook his head at his idiocy. "We have nowhere to go, from where we started," he repeated with a smile. For three days he'd racked his brain and now he'd finally figured it out. "I get it. I finally get it," he replied happily.

She nodded then, confused that he would be so willing after all this to accept her rejection now. "That's right, Patrick. Thank you for everything," she told him softly. Her heart was telling her she was crazy as he began to walk away.

He turned and looked back at her. "No. Thank you, Lizzie," he told her, the sparkle in his eyes evident at that moment.

"Goodbye, Patrick," Lizzie told him as she headed off towards her flat.

"Goodbye, Lizzie," he told her, watching her walk away. "I'll see ya here tomorrow. Same time."

That stopped Lizzie dead in her tracks. Her heart felt like it would burst but her mind was screaming its objections. Slowly she turned around with a look of disbelief on her face. "No, Patrick…" she called out to him as he turned and walked, his long legs covering much distance.

She furrowed her eyebrows and yelled out his name again.

But it was too late, he was already gone.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"You're making quite the fool of yourself, aren't you?"

Patrick looked up in surprise at Gretchen as she burst into his office. Her perfect little nose was turned up. "Gretchen, what are you doing here? Margaret-"

With a wave of her hand she dismissively replied, "Oh that old bat can't keep me out." She slithered across his office and settled herself into the chair across from Patrick. Her green eyes watched him piteously.

With a raised eyebrow he asked, "We're through, Gretchen, did you not get that?"

She sat up arching her back, pushing her full bust into his view, as though the ample amount of cleavage she was displaying hadn't been enough. "Patrick," she said with a pout. "I thought maybe you'd had enough rejection."

He furrowed his brows in confusion at the blond as she gave him a smug smile.

"Oh come on now. The whole town's been a witness to you making a fool of yourself for that mouse of a woman…she used to work for you, didn't she? What was her name?"

His mouth was set in a line and he really was not happy with the way this conversation was heading. "It's none of your business what I do, Gretchen."

"All that trouble, Patrick, and for what? So she can walk right past you."

"It's over, Gretchen, I already told you that…remember at the restaurant the other night?"

"We're never really over, Patrick. After all these years you still haven't realized that?" she remarked, fluffing up her hair. Her fingers opened up her large designer purse and pulled out her compact, opening it and observing her reflection in the small round mirror.

For once, Patrick was finally seeing her. He couldn't deny the things that Marie had said about Gretchen. He hadn't wanted to believe it. Sitting there arrogantly the way she was admiring herself in the mirror, she reminded him of a pampered princess. All she needed was a fluffy poodle and a tiara. He shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh. "It's really over and you really need to leave now."

She snapped her compact shut and her eyes fixed on his icily. "Why, so you can continue to pursue a woman who doesn't want you?"

His turquoise eyes turned cold, and he scooted himself away from the desk getting ready to stand. "Just stop right there."

"And then that son of hers…I saw you and that boy holding up signs for her. It was pathetic…you on your knees with that retarded boy."

Patrick sprang up from his chair. "Frankie is not retarded, he's deaf!" he told her through his teeth.

She shrugged her shoulders carelessly, quite happy that she was getting a rise out of him.

"Retarded, deaf…same bloody thing."

From outside his office Margaret winced at Patrick's bellowed response for Gretchen to leave. In her ten years working for this man, she'd never heard him this angry before. It wasn't a surprise to Margaret though that Gretchen could bring it out.

His steely greenish eyes stared down into Gretchen's, his hand braced her wrist firmly and when he spoke it was in an eerily low tone, "I'm telling you for the last time to leave, Gretchen, or I'll drag you out kicking and screaming." His lips formed a snarl and he continued, "And you won't like the way everyone will be staring at you as I throw you out on your ass!"

Gretchen looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes. In all the years she'd known him he'd never spoken this way to her. And then she let an amused smile fall over her lips as she yanked her wrist away. "Calm down, Patrick. I was just about to leave."

She stood up, straightened her skirt, fluffed her hair, and headed for the door.

Patrick breathed a sigh of relief as she turned the doorknob but then she turned and faced him putting four fingertips up to her lips and blew him a kiss goodbye.

With her pride still intact she turned the doorknob and opened the door slightly. Her voice came out in a high-pitched shriek. "I'm serious, Patrick Connelly," she screamed, opening the door wider so that Margaret could see her angry expression. "We are over!" she yelled hotly, "I don't ever want to see you again!"

With that, the blond vixen stormed angrily away, muttering profanities; the clicking sound of her stilettos fading as she left.

Patrick peeked his head out of the door and Margaret's eyes met his sympathetically. The older woman shook her head at her boss as she caught his disturbed expression.

Slowly he walked out, and a smile settled on his lips. He breathed a sigh of relief and nodded happily to his secretary. "She's gone."

* * *

That afternoon Patrick waited nervously by the bakery door. It was Lizzie's quitting time- exactly five minutes past now that he looked at his watch. He began to wonder if maybe there wasn't some other exit that she might've taken to avoid him. 

But his breath caught as she appeared on the other side of the door. It was always the same. His heart did a leap when her eyes met his and he wondered if just the sight of her would always make him feel this way.

Lizzie stepped out hesitantly, her face serious. "Patrick…I-,"

He cut in, "Hello, Lizzie. I have an idea, and I need your help." He took her by the hand, determined to not let her get away this time, and began leading her towards his car.

In protest she stopped him and incredulously pulled her hand away. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Please, Lizzie, I'm asking you to play along. Please?" he begged, his eyes looked like a puppy dog again.

"Why should I?"

A smile came across his lips. It was a smile of pure confidence, and Lizzie couldn't help be affected by it.

"Because if you don't," he began, "we're going to go through this everyday until you do."

She began to stammer, "Patrick…this…it's…bad."

He grabbed her hand then, squeezing it firmly, and Lizzie felt like he'd sent a jolt of electricity through her.

"Please," he sighed. "Please just do this for me, and then if you don't ever want to see me again then that'll be the end of it."

The thought of it made her sad but Lizzie knew at some point it had to end. Her sanity demanded it. As he gazed down at her pleadingly though, her heart seemed to tell a different story.

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

Lizzie nodded and allowed Patrick to lead her to his car, his grip softening on her hand.

Parked on the side of the street, he opened the passenger side door for her very gentlemanly. Lizzie settled herself into the lush bucket seat; admiring the vehicle's leather interior and breathed in the familiar new car smell.

Very quickly he entered on the other side and as he turned the keys in the ignition he flashed her a brilliant smile.

And then Lizzie knew her heart was in very big trouble.

* * *

As they pulled up onto the familiar street a few blocks away, Lizzie felt her heart sink. She said nothing as he helped her out of the car and they stood in front of the coffeehouse door entrance. 

_This is where it began,_ she thought with dread. All the anxiety began to crawl its way back into her stomach. Suddenly her palms felt sweaty and she had the irresistible urge to run away. But as he opened the door for her, she calmly entered.

Her feet wouldn't go any further, though, as the surroundings and even the smells of the coffee brought her back to a very awkward time only weeks ago.

"Patrick, I don't think-"

"Come on," he urged impatiently, taking her by the arm hurriedly and led her to the exact booth where they'd first met.

Helplessly she looked up at him and she shook her head.

But before she could get any words out he told her, "Give me five minutes, alright?"

Her eyes wandered from booth to booth, patron to patron, and she willed herself to calm down. She had to go through with this or Patrick would keep persisting.

Lizzie had no idea what Patrick was up to as he quickly strode away. Not even a minute later the server appeared with a bottle of water. He smiled and set it gently down on the table in front of her.

She looked up at the server with a puzzled expression. "I didn't order this."

At this the server only smiled. "It's been taken care of," he stated gently. "Can I get you anything else?" he asked her. When Lizzie shook her head politely he quickly left her alone with her thoughts.

With a long sigh, she removed her jacket and settled back into the cushiony seat. She twisted off the cap to the bottle of water and laughed. The last time she'd ordered tap water. He must've thought she was very odd.

_None of that mattered now_, she thought, and hoped that this would be over very soon. As long as Patrick was as good as his word then she could get back to a normal life. She took a deep breath and mentally ordered all her walls stand firm. It was imperative to her sanity that they guard and protect just as they were supposed to.

As the minutes passed she began to relax and even found herself humming along to the tune that was playing over the speakers. Her head fell back against the seat and she let her eyes close for just a moment…

"Hello."

Startled, Lizzie's eyes snapped open and inwardly gasped as she looked up. Patrick stood opposite of her only he was wearing different clothing. Clad in a dark blue button down shirt and tan slacks, the deep blue of his eyes stood out remarkably. She tried not to admire the way the woven fabric clung to his chest. Standing there clean-shaven, his face wore a confident smile. He appeared as though he'd just stepped out of a catalog.

And she couldn't help notice the spicy, masculine scent he'd just put on that made her nose want to follow it.

His turquoise eyes looked down at her with a playful glint and he held a cup of coffee in his hand.

She could feel her heart thumping as his smile waged war with her resolve. "What are you doing?"

He leaned in slightly to whisper to her, like a secret. "I'm starting over."

The gentle breath from his whisper sent tingles down her body and she trembled, cursing herself for being weak.

"What's this all about?" she asked trying desperately to maintain her composure.

He ignored her query and stood back up perfectly straight. "I noticed that you were sitting here all alone and wondered if you wanted some company?" he asked her, a small smile playing about his lips.

She didn't realize that her mouth was hanging open as she looked up into his handsome face. _Don't do it, Lizzie_, her mind screamed. But as his eyes pleaded with hers she couldn't control what came out of her mouth. "Sure. Alright."

With a pleased smile, he sat across from her, setting his coffee on the table. "My name is Patrick. Patrick Connelly." He took a sip of his coffee as he watched her confused expression. "What's yours?"

Lizzie raised an eyebrow as she replied, "Patrick, you know my name."

"Just play along, please?"

She couldn't escape those brilliant eyes or the unsettling feeling that they delivered. She cleared her throat and looked up. "Lizzie. My name is Lizzie Morrison." _Walls, don't fail me now,_ she prayed.

Patrick's eyes darted around and he took a quick peek over his shoulder and asked her playfully, "You aren't expecting anyone, like a boyfriend or husband?"

Lizzie cracked a smile. Although she was perfectly aware that Patrick knew better she couldn't help but be amazed at how with a change of clothes and attitude he'd convincingly transformed himself into a complete stranger again.

"No boyfriend," Lizzie replied. "My husband passed away recently."

His face quickly turned serious and his eyes sparkled with sympathy. Patrick had to remind himself that they were starting all over and that he should pretend to not be aware of the pain that her late husband had inflicted. He cleared his throat, nearly choking on the words. "I'm sorry."

Lizzie only nodded uncomfortably, setting her eyes on the print of her water bottle.

"My wife passed away many years ago." He hadn't spoken of Annabel in years and he didn't know why all of a sudden that now he felt compelled to.

Her eyes snapped up quickly and she was immediately affected by the sadness in his eyes. "Oh…oh," she said surprisedly. "How?"

Patrick's eyes met hers then. "She had a brain tumor," he admitted, still feeling the painful sting of the words. Although he could've said more he chose not to.

There was a silent, awkward moment and Lizzie found her mind was reeling. Apparently there was more to this man than she thought. Beneath that well-groomed, confident, handsome exterior he was human and capable of love and loss. _There goes one_ _wall._

"How did he die?" he asked.

Her eyes looked up thoughtfully to the lamp hanging overhead. "He died from kidney failure. He was an alcoholic for many years which lead to liver disease and... it finally caught up with him."

Patrick was silent as he contemplated which way to continue.

The disturbed look on his face prompted Lizzie to add, "I left him a long time ago, actually," she heard herself saying the words and wondered why she felt the need to inform him of that.

Hope lit up his turquoise eyes and he continued. "So do you have any children?"

Her lips formed a smirk as she watched him knowingly. "I have a son."

"Really?" he asked, his face a genuine expression of surprise.

"Yeah, he's nearly ten now," she informed him, finding herself enjoying their little exchange and willing to play along. As he nodded she was surprised at how well he was acting the part of someone she'd never met. Since he'd sat down he'd not betrayed his actions at all. Not with his expressions, not with his words, and not with his eyes. "My son," she laughed, "he's a smart cookie."

Patrick found himself entranced by her laugh. "Aye, he sure is," he let it slip out, and his eyes opened wide as he caught his error. He caught Lizzie giggle. "I mean, children these days are very smart."

"Right," she agreed with a giggle. _Damn, there goes another_.

I would love to meet him, he thought to say. But he didn't want to push. They were starting over again and he was determined to stay within her comfort zone.

"So do you have any children?" she asked curiously. There was so much she didn't know about this man.

His gaze turned downward and his lips turned to a frown. "No," he uttered. He changed his tone quickly though and gazed into her mesmerizing eyes. "I would love to have children someday."

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks and she reached for her water bottle. With every swallow she hoped that the liquid would restore her face to its natural color.

"So what do you do?" he asked.

"For a couple of weeks now I've been working in a bakery. My boss says that she's going to make me the official cake decorator."

This made Patrick smile. The look of pride in her eyes warmed his heart. Even though she wasn't in Marie's shop anymore he was happy to see that she liked her job.

"And you?" she asked.

"My sister and I own a chain of three Marie's restaurants. In fact there's one here in Glasgow. Maybe you've heard of it."

_He is good_, Lizzie thought. "Yeah, I think I've heard of it. Fish and chips," she replied with a smirk.

He took a sip of his coffee. "Right. My sister, Marie runs this one and I spend most of my time at the one in Greenock, and tend to the other as needed. Eddie, who's worked there for about three years manages that one for me."

Lizzie nodded along, curious to know more about this man across from her. As she opened her mouth to ask another question she caught a disturbed expression fall over his face.

He closed his eyes and sighed. His right hand lifted his mobile phone and his eyes impatiently read the caller id. His face was awash with apology. "Speak of the devil. Lizzie, I have to take this call, do you mind?"

She shook her head and demurely brought the water bottle up to her lips.

"Eddie, I told you not to call me unless it was an…Oh," he paused for a moment and a slight frown crossed his lips. "Alright, I'll be there as soon as I can."

She knew she had no right to feel this way, but she didn't want him to leave. Perhaps it was the look of sheer disappointment on his face as he listened to the distressed voice on the other end of the line. Or maybe it was appreciation for all the trouble he had gone through for her this past week. _One more wall...gone._

"I have to go."

She simply nodded and without a word they both stood and headed towards the front entrance. She was quiet and watched him as he paid the bill. He turned and faced her, his turquoise eyes piercing hers. His cologne baited her with its musky allure.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Lizzie Morrison," he told her trying to read the smile on her face. Was she just being polite? Is it really over? She hadn't really given a clue whether she wanted to see him again.

Lizzie found herself waiting expectantly for him to say something, anything. But as he opened the door for her he remained silent, his expression unreadable. Awkwardly they stood in front of his car pondering what the next step might be. Would there be a next step?

"Can I give you a ride home?"

"I hardly know you!" she cried out, but as soon as the words left her lips she wondered why she could've said something so foolish. But as he looked at her, his eyes naked with vulnerability, she wondered how she could've gotten any intelligible words out at all. She felt a blush rising to her cheeks and shook her head, silently kicking herself. _Say something_, _Lizzie_. "It was nice meeting you, Patrick."

His heart sank. Patrick tried to hide the disappointment he was feeling and gave her a pleasant smile, forcing himself to enter the driver's side of the car.

Her head was turned down as she began to walk but it wasn't more than a few feet before his car pulled up beside her. His automatic window rolled down, and her head snapped up in surprise.

"Lizzie?"

_Thump thump thump thump_. Her heart was pounding as his handsome face poked out the window.

"I'd really like to see you again. Will you-"

"Yes," she cut in, nodding her head with relief, her lips smiling her affirmative response.

His eyes sparkled, and his teeth were a brilliant white as he grinned at her. "Are you sure you don't want a ride home?"

She shook her head shyly. As much as she would've liked to accept, she wanted to relish this feeling. This wondrous, exciting, new feeling. She hoped that it wouldn't go away.

"I'll call you tomorrow at the bakery then."

Lizzie nodded, thinking that she must've appeared like some lovesick schoolgirl to him. "Alright, tomorrow at the bakery."

"Bye Lizzie," he told her with a wave of his hand and his black sportscar drove slowly away.

Her whole body felt tingly and with every step that she took she was reliving their entire conversation. Giggles passed through her causing passersby to stare. With a girlish smile on her face, Lizzie felt as light as air and she floated the rest of the way home.

* * *

"Lizzie, there you are!" 

Nell's face was exasperated as she watched her daughter enter and close the door behind her. "Where in heaven's name have ya been? Maureen said you left the bakery an hour ago, and this flat is falling apart! The bloody toilet's clogged up again and it keeps overflowing…"

The disturbing news coming out of her mother's mouth did not seem to affect her. It was as though she was watching her mum on television and had pressed the mute button. As she leaned her body back against the door, her hands rested comfortably in her jacket pockets. A dreamy smile was affixed to Lizzie's face.

"Lizzie, did ya hear a word I was saying? Where've you been?"

Her eyes met her mother's just then. "I met a man."

Nell's shocked expression almost made Lizzie laugh. "What?! What man, Lizzie? Who?"

She still felt feather-light, like she was floating on some cloud way up high in the heavens and her eyes held a faraway look. "Patrick, Ma. His name is Patrick.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for your reviews! I always love to hear from you so please keep em' coming! 


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks as always for your feedback! Please read and review!

Chapter 11

_One o'clock down at the quay._

Patrick checked the tiny hands on his watch again to be sure that it was still working. There were still two minutes left until Lizzie would be there and he found himself very restless, unable to stand in one place.

Worrisome thoughts clouded his thinking. What if Lizzie changed her mind? What if he'd come on too strong? For the past ten minutes he'd been pacing. He was almost tempted to light up a cigarette, but as he saw her approaching he breathed a sigh of relief.

Her chestnut hair was down, brushing delicately across her shoulders as she walked. A slender finger tucked a stray piece behind her ear. He admired the way her blue jeans clung to her as she walked. Her hands were tucked in the pockets of her brown suede jacket, and with a slight smile on her face, Patrick never thought she looked more beautiful.

Nervousness was written all over her face, and just the sight of him standing there waiting made her heart begin to pound. Lizzie felt a great many things at that moment. Excitement, anticipation, worry, fear, happiness, hope; she couldn't recall the last time she'd felt this way. As Lizzie made her way towards him she concentrated her focus on the busy surroundings in an attempt to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

Here they were, starting all over again. She hadn't thought it was possible to have a relationship with this man. Her mind and heart battled a war against the other…and her heart won. Lizzie decided that she would still hold on to her walls- what she had left of them- just in case.

"Hello," he greeted.

His eyes were warm as he took in the sight of her. Tall and strong he stood, dressed casually in jeans and a baby blue sweater. Lizzie wondered if she'd seen the last of his signature black leather jacket as she admired the tan corduroy one he was now wearing. Maybe it was because he was trying to disassociate himself with the stranger that he was when they first met. Whatever the reason was Lizzie didn't care.

"Hello, Patrick," she greeted with a smile, her hair blowing gently with the breeze. Right away she found herself disarmed by his virile presence.

"You decided not to bring Frankie, eh?"

In truth, Patrick wouldn't have minded spending another day together with the two of them. He'd looked forward to seeing the boy again, but he decided that he was going to leave things up to Lizzie. It was going to take a great deal of restraint on his part but he was determined not to push her away. She had agreed to see him again, and he was extremely grateful for that, so now the best course of action was to take things very slowly.

Lizzie looked shyly up at him, her eyes squinting from the sun. "Too soon."

With a nod his eyes darted around their surroundings. "Right…you choose. Where do you wanna go?"

She listened closely as he offered her many suggestions. She was quiet for a moment and the thoughtful expression she wore reminded him of Frankie's as he calculated what to do with their day.

A mischievous smile came across her lips just then. As he watched her reply, Patrick couldn't help observing the subtle way her lips formed the words. He wanted to grab her and feel those lips against his own again. He longed to feel their gentle warmth, and taste their sweetness. His arms hungered for her embrace and his hands yearned for her touch.

But, he reminded himself, it was too soon. He still had to earn her trust. It wouldn't be easy, he knew, but was willing to die trying.

* * *

"Who was that?" Ally asked as Marie hung up the phone and made her way over to him with a pleased smile. 

Her eyes lit up and she planted a happy kiss on Ally's cheek. "That was Patrick. Apparently he will be joining us for our barbecue," she told him with a smile. Marie headed to the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator as Ally followed. "He said he had a surprise."

Ally leaned in and reached a beer. "It'll be good to see him again," he said with a smile.

He and Patrick had always gotten along very well. Ally's younger sister, Lynn, worked at the Greenock location. Lynn had introduced Ally to Marie one day at a party. Ally was pleasantly surprised how well he got along with his sister's bosses, especially Marie. Marie was so full of life, and lit up the room with her smile. He found that he was captivated by her. After spending some time with her and getting to know Patrick on a more personal level he was pleased to discover his easy going personality.

With a smirk, Marie shook her head as she watched her boyfriend open and close every single drawer in her kitchen. Finally she scooted beside him and grasped the bottle opener his fumbling fingers were in search of. "He sounded like he's back in the 'land of the living' again," she told him.

He laughed, "That's good news, em…the bottle opener, please?"

Marie stowed the utensil behind her back, her blue eyes glittering playfully. "What?" she asked innocently, scooting backwards away from the kitchen.

The next thing Marie knew she'd been tackled and fell backwards onto her sofa as Ally ruthlessly tickled her. Loud howls and giggles escaped her as Ally fell on top of her, kissing her neck and trying to wrestle the object from her arm.

Finally he grasped the small silver bottle opener from her and held it up victoriously. With a raised eyebrow he gazed down into her eyes, and commanded seriously, "Never try to keep a man from his beer."

Marie gaped at him. "There aren't any men here, Ally," she told him, the corners of her lips turned up slyly.

Her response earned her more tickles, and her screams were so loud she thought Cindy next door might hear them.

A knock at the door distracted them, both looking up in surprise.

"See? You've done it now, Marie. Probably the neighbors came to complain."

"Oh shoosh," she smiled, pushing him aside, and stood up. Hurriedly she ran some fingers through her mussed hair and straightened her clothing as she headed for the door.

Her fingers braced the knob and she opened the door to find Patrick staring down at her, his lips forming a teasing smile, holding a large bottle of wine in his hands.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked her, hiding Lizzie behind him. "We can come back."

Marie's eyebrows were knit in confusion until she saw Lizzie pop her head out to Patrick's side. Her blue eyes flew open wide and octaves above her normal voice, Marie squealed, "Helloooo." She was bubbling over with joy and barely able to contain her smile.

Patrick cut in, winking to Lizzie, "Marie, I'd like you to meet Lizzie," he told her, gesturing from Lizzie to his puzzled sister. "Lizzie, this is my sister, Marie."

Lizzie smiled at Marie's bewildered expression and offered her hand to shake. Marie ignored Lizzie's gesture and pulled her friend into an enthusiastic embrace.

"Lizzie," she sang, holding her tightly, rocking her back and forth. "I've missed you so much!" As Patrick greeted Ally, she whispered to Lizzie, "What's my brother been drinking?" But unfortunately for Marie, Lizzie only giggled at her query.

Ally smiled politely to Lizzie as Patrick reintroduced them and shook her hand. But as the two hung their jackets he and Marie exchanged perturbed glances.

Marie quickly retrieved the wine from Patrick. "Wine?" she offered to Lizzie, as they made their way towards the kitchen.

With a smile, Lizzie nodded and watched as Marie deftly opened up the wine and poured two glasses. Gratefully she accepted the glass and took a rather large sip.

Marie lifted her glass to her lips, but then stopped. "Patrick?" she shouted coarsely, nearly causing Lizzie to spill. "Beer?"

"Of course," he shouted back from the other room.

Marie put down her glass. "Get yer arse over here and get it!" Marie yelled, pulling a beer from the refrigerator.

Patrick appeared in the entryway with a small smile and watched as his sister handed the beer to Lizzie to pass to him.

Lizzie nearly lost herself in his eyes as he smiled down at her. When she handed him the bottle their fingers touched, and for a moment it was though he'd delivered one of those jolts with his contact. It sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a blush rising to her cheeks. He mouthed the words 'thank you' and she nodded, turning quickly back to her wine, taking a big gulp.

She found herself puzzled by her electric reaction to his touch. They hadn't held hands on the short walk over and she told herself it was silly that she should feel this way. It was as though he'd never held her in an embrace as they danced or even kissed her…briefly. Since Lizzie had arrived at the quay he'd made no attempt to touch her or hold her and she couldn't help wonder if she should be concerned. Maybe he was just being a gentleman, she thought.

"So how's Frankie boy doing?" Marie asked, removing the steaks from the refrigerator shelf. Actually Marie had about fifty questions floating around in her head, like bubbles waiting to burst. With calm restraint she reminded herself not to bombard her friend with too many personal questions. There would be time for that later.

"He's doing well…He-"

Lizzie was cut off by Ally's loud voice. "Marie, can you give me the bottle opener, please?"

With a roll of her eyes, she prompted Lizzie to continue.

"Frankie wanted to come today, but I told him-"

"Marie, bottle opener…please!" Ally's voice came across again.

Marie put her hand up. "Ignore him. Anyway…please continue," she requested.

Lizzie washed her hands and dried them with a paper towel as Marie marinated the steaks in a large glass casserole dish. "I told him next time would be-"

"Marie, the bloody bottle opener!"

"For Christ's sake," Marie shouted, her eyes filled with annoyance. Fiery blue eyes locked on his as she stood at the entryway and nearly shouted, "I don't bloody have it!"

Patrick shook his head in amusement as Ally and Marie went at it.

"Well, it's not over here," Ally declared, holding up Patrick's bottle, his face a picture of frustration.

Her blue eyes narrowed at Ally as he sat there like a helpless little boy beside her brother. "You had it last," she told him with a note of finality in her voice, promptly turning on her heels and heading back towards the kitchen.

Lizzie and Marie could hear the men shuffling around the flat in search of the god-forsaken utensil.

"Good God!" Marie exclaimed. "How many men does it take to find a bottle opener?" she joked, nudging Lizzie and returning to the steaks.

Lizzie snifted as she heard one of them muttering that he would open it with his teeth.

"Is that the only one?" Lizzie asked with an amused smile.

Marie nodded and leaned in towards Lizzie, her lips curved in a sneaky smile. "How many women does it take to find a bottle opener?" She bit her lip to keep from laughing as Lizzie shrugged her shoulders. In a smooth, quick motion Marie produced the bottle opener from her pocket with an animated smile. "One."

A slight gasp escaped Lizzie's mouth as she looked from the small, silver object to Marie.

Effortlessly, Marie opened up the bottle of wine again quickly refilling Lizzie's and her own glass almost to the brim.

With a satisfied smile Marie lifted her glass and whispered to Lizzie, "I'd like to make a toast. To… getting a head start on the boys."

Lizzie looked at her former boss fondly. As she watched Marie's beaming face, she realized how much she missed her. Carefully, Lizzie lifted up her glass to meet Marie's with a clink.

"Cheers."

* * *

The sound of the ladies giggling could be heard from Marie's back patio. As Ally tended busily to the steaks on the barbecue, Patrick couldn't resist checking up on Lizzie and his sister. 

His brows knit in annoyance and he burst inside. "For the love of God, Marie," he said, looking down at the two women flipping through one of Marie's many photo albums.

Marie looked up innocently as Lizzie gazed at the photos on the page. "What?"

"Lizzie doesn't want to see this," he told her. Although in truth he didn't want her to see the old embarrassing photos from when they were kids. _What was next_, he thought sourly, _home movies_?

"Yes, I do," Lizzie replied with a smile.

"See? Yes, she does."

Patrick looked up toward the ceiling and sighed. "Marie, please," he asked in a half-frustrated tone. "Put them away."

Marie stood up, taking a sip from her glass and shooed him away. "If you're not going to join us, then leave."

He didn't move but continued to glare at his sister as she looked up challengingly at him.

"Off with you now," she urged. "If you don't leave us in peace, I'll set up the projector," Marie informed him.

A look of horror came over him. He knew his sister and she wasn't joking. His eyes settled on Lizzie just then. Her smile soothed him instantly and as he saw her happily look from photo to photo, he nodded in defeat. "Right." He turned and headed back towards the door. "Enjoy," he uttered.

"We will," the ladies chorused.

In fact, Lizzie was thoroughly charmed. She delighted in seeing their family pictures and Marie happily relayed the experiences. Lizzie was amazed at their parent's wedding photo. Marie resembled her mother greatly, from the color of her hair, to the liquid blue of her eyes. Patrick seemed to be the spitting image of his dad. Page by page, Lizzie was filled with enjoyment at the images and her eyes devoured each and every one.

"I'm going to check on Ally," Marie informed her, leaving Lizzie to explore their pasts on her own.

Patrick stepped back inside as Marie headed out. He stood before Lizzie as she flipped to the next page.

Lizzie could feel his strong presence. The unmistakable scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, tempting her with its balmy goodness. She resisted the urge to grab him and sniff him up and down. The right scent can do funny things…

His eyes seemed to pierce her, willing hers to meet his. Just the awareness that he was watching her brought a slight flush to her face. When Lizzie finally looked up at him she found him smiling, looking away. He looked embarrassed and the thought of it made her want to chuckle.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked with a humble smile.

"Very much," she replied reaching for her glass.

His face turned away again as she turned her attention to one of his baby pictures.

"Do you know what I'd like more, Patrick?" she asked and his eyes met hers again. She patted the seat next to her. "Sit with me."

A warm feeling came over him just then replacing the humiliated one that still left a yucky residue. He sat beside her, his leg just barely brushing against hers.

A giggle came over Lizzie as she looked upon an old picture of baby Patrick laying nude on a blanket; bare bottom exposed.

He simply shook his head. "I'm gonna kill Marie."

"Are ya kidding, Patrick? These are the cutest pictures…" she told him, her brown eyes engaging him. "You were a right cute baby."

Her smile was infectious and he let his eyes fall over the photos. With a smug smile, he agreed, "True."

Lizzie nudged him playfully and pointed to one of the pictures. "Who was this older woman holding you right there?"

Patrick cleared his throat. "That was my nana. She was the kindest, sweetest lady you would ever meet. She passed away shortly after I began college." He felt a lump form in his throat at the memory of his late grandmother.

She scooted closer to him, dropping one side of the album on his leg. With a nod she continued turning pages, smiling and giggling at certain photos.

He sat there next to her and suddenly everything felt right to him. He couldn't explain how or why but it was almost like the feeling of déjà vu. Her smile enchanted him, and the look in her eyes as always, drew him in.

The sound of her laughter was like music to his ears and suddenly he didn't mind that it came at his expense. Soon the embarrassment began to fade and he realized he was happy. Patrick was happier than he'd been in a very long time.

* * *

Two glasses of wine later… 

_Will he kiss me?_

Lizzie was feeling no pain as Patrick walked her home. The alcohol served to only intensify her attraction. They talked and they laughed. She felt as light as air and she was unaware if what she was laughing at was even funny.

With every word that he spoke, she found herself mesmerized by the promise of his lips.

_Will he kiss me?_

She babbled on like an idiot about her past jobs, about her mum, about Frankie and delighted in the way he seemed to hang on her every word.

The sparkle in his eyes made her legs feel a little wobbly and his grin only drew her attention back to his full sensual lips.

_Will he kiss me?_

Lizzie almost tripped as they stepped on the sidewalk in front of her building. _I shouldn't have had that fourth glass_, she thought remorsefully. He offered his arm to help steady her, then withdrew when she was balanced again.

They reached the door and Patrick halted. Lizzie was puzzled as he took a hesitant step backward.

He wasn't going to walk her up. All day Patrick had restrained himself. As much as he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her good and long, he refrained. She was standing before him, her brown eyes melting his heart.

It was like déjà vu again, he thought, as they were only inches from each other. They stood in front of her building. Gazing longingly into the depths of her eyes, he waged a battle within his mind once again.

If only he hadn't kissed her that time, and pursued Lizzie after he'd ended things with Gretchen, he wouldn't have to earn her trust. He wouldn't have to wait to touch her, or kiss or hold her hand. He wouldn't have to endure the painful, torturous temptation of feeling the softness of her lips on his. He wouldn't have to worry that his actions would scare her away. If only...

This was his second chance, he told himself. He was determined not to blow this one. So he stood before her, his hands tucked in the security of his jacket pockets, his resolve strong but seeming to lessen with every second.

He pulled his gaze away from her eyes, clearing his throat, and trying to snap himself out of the spell. "So, tea here tomorrow?"

_He's not going to kiss me._

Lizzie blinked as he backed away another step. She looked away in disappointment but smiled. "Here, six o'clock," she nodded.

"Six o'clock," he affirmed softly. "I can't wait."

An awkward silence passed and he made no move to leave.

Maybe it was the mild flirtations they'd shared throughout the day. Or perhaps it was the giddiness from truly enjoying herself. It could've been the dizzying scent of his cologne. Or even the four glasses of wine…

Lizzie threw herself at Patrick, pecking him on the lips.

It was only a split second. Her heart was pounding and as Lizzie realized what she had done and witnessed the surprised look on his face she felt the need to run as quickly and far as possible. Red from embarrassment, she felt painfully sober at the realization that he had made no moves today. He hadn't even tried to hold her hand and here she was throwing herself at him like some horny teenager. In a flash she'd entered her building leaving him staring after her.

And what she didn't see were his arms reaching out for her as she yelled goodbye.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

_He didn't kiss her_.

A smile played about her lips as Gretchen sat at her desk, and she absently tapped her pen on the pile of paperwork before her. She had a presentation to make on Monday and had brought her file home.

The screensaver on her computer appeared, reminding her of the graph that she was supposed to be occupied with. Almost every night she'd spent with her new companion, Thomas, and she'd fallen behind on her work.

Actually, Gretchen found that she and Thomas were compatible in almost every way. In the short time she'd known him she found him charming, and arrogant. His unpredictability never failed to surprise her, and she was intrigued by his intense moods. The man was well-dressed, well-spoken, confident, and irresistible in bed.

And Gretchen was enjoying herself so much that she hadn't allowed her thoughts to wander to Patrick.

Until now...

For some reason she couldn't concentrate on work.

The evening before as she and Thomas had left the video store, she spotted Patrick and Lizzie.

Her heart wanted to scream as she saw Patrick gazing across at that woman. Gretchen's eyes were fixed on them and Thomas looked at her questioningly. When she didn't reply he possessively tried to pull her hand towards the direction of his car.

Fury lit up inside her and she yanked her arm away from Thomas and just stood there silently, watching, seething inside. She couldn't make out Patrick's expression but from what she could tell from his body language he was getting ready to leave.

And then that mouse of a woman threw herself at him; her Patrick! It made her sick to her stomach.

Gretchen gaped, her feet glued to the floor as she watched Patrick walk away from the building.

_He hadn't kissed her_.

It was obvious to Gretchen now why he hadn't. He realized he'd made a mistake, she thought, nodding her head. Her breathing sped up when a realization hit her.

_Patrick didn't really care for that woman_.

Somehow she had to help him realize that. Gretchen didn't know how but she needed to show him that she was the one that Patrick was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. He could be happy with her if he just gave himself the chance, she thought. Desperately she searched her mind for the solution.

With a sigh she rubbed at her temples. She was feeling the beginning of a headache coming on.

* * *

Lizzie felt like she was moving in slow motion as she closed the door and made her way back to the kitchen. Her heart pounded softly in her chest and a smile took over her lips as she gazed down at the Scrabble board. Patrick was gone, but she could still feel the heat rising to her cheeks as she read the words. 

_Earlier that evening_

They were all alone again. Well…almost.

Nell sat contentedly in the living room watching her favorite television show and Frankie was supposed to be asleep.

So that left Patrick and Lizzie awkwardly staring at each other in the kitchen. The air was heavy with anticipation, and Lizzie felt her entire body becoming warm with his gaze.

"I'm not very good at this game," he confessed, looking apprehensively down at the Scrabble board sitting on the table.

She cocked her head sideways at him. "Oh, come on, it 'll be fun." Lizzie told herself that if she was able to concentrate on a game, then her mind wouldn't become preoccupied with the scent of his cologne, or how nicely his shirt clung to his chest. Or even the way his lips…

Lizzie halted her train of thought and put her eyes to survey the words on the board that Catriona and Frankie already started with. Besides, she thought, what else were they going to do? A game was harmless after all.

Lizzie still hadn't quite recovered from unabashedly throwing herself at him the evening before.

Patrick remained a gentleman throughout the night. He never said or did anything to make anyone uncomfortable. And of course, he kept his hands to himself.

At Lizzie's request, Frankie's friend, Catriona had joined them. It was pizza night and Lizzie felt that the more people were there, she would be less likely of making a fool of herself. Catriona, however, had made her attraction to Patrick perfectly clear. The ten-year-old girl's eyes stayed glued to Patrick throughout the evening and Frankie had to nudge her several times. Somehow Catriona's cow eyes didn't seem to make Patrick feel uncomfortable.

It was a very charming scene as Lizzie and her mother put away the dishes. Patrick sat with the kids at the table drawing cartoon faces. The two giggled in delight at Patrick's doodles, and Frankie was so pleased to have him there that the smile on his face never left- until Catriona's mum picked her up and they had to abandon the game they'd just begun…and Frankie had to go to bed.

It was Sunday night and Lizzie was painfully aware of the fact that they both had work in the morning, but she didn't want him to leave just yet.

"I'm more of a "chess" man."

"They already started it," she reasoned. "We can just add on. I'll go easy on you, I promise."

Just a look from her pleading brown eyes captivated him. He could've stayed there like that with her the whole night perfectly happy under the enchanting spell of her eyes. Patrick didn't want to leave either. He'd had a wonderful time, and if playing a game that he'd get horribly slaughtered at meant making Lizzie happy, then dammit, he was going to do it.

With a nod, he sat at the table, scoping out the words already on the board.

"Do you remember how to play?"

Patrick nodded. "Use these letter tiles to add on to the existing words on the board. Then depending on the letters used, you are awarded a number of points," he replied, arranging his letters in a nice neat row.

Lizzie joined him and grabbed a pencil and paper. Her eyes perused the words set out carefully on the board. Out of the six words they had begun with most were small.

She read the words that were set out horizontally: tiger, ouch, and is. The vertical words were: in, art, and fee. Her letter tiles revealed the letters x, g, o, t, e, i, w. Lizzie frowned slightly at her selection of letters and stole a quick glance up at Patrick's troubled face.

Patrick examined his own letters. Laid out before him he had a q, m, y, l, f, and two a's. As he considered his limited possibilities he found himself reminded of exactly why he didn't particularly care for this game. His mind inevitably began to wander. There was another more entertaining game he could think of…

He cleared his throat nervously and looked up at her. "You go first."

With a smile she added the letters 'w' and 'e' to the word 'in' vertically forming the word 'wine'. She thought to herself that wine actually sounded good at the moment. But she was better off without it. There was no way she wanted to subject herself to another humiliation.

Satisfied, she calculated the points and recorded them on the piece of paper. Her fingers reached the pile of tiles and she grasped two new letters.

His fingers moved his f,a,l letters to another l placed horizontally to form the word 'fall'. Pleased with himself, he grasped two more tiles and added them to his others.

She recorded the points and looked up distractedly from her tiles, catching the small smile on his face. His lips were curved up slightly. She'd always admired their perfect form. They looked soft and she wondered how they would feel on her neck…

"Your turn," he said warmly, catching her staring up at him.

Lizzie felt her whole face turning red, and quickly turned her attention back to her tiles. She smiled and was extremely grateful that the man couldn't read minds. Distractedly she tapped her nails on the table and considered her letters with a frown.

"These bloody letters are horrible. There's only one I can use," she told him shaking her head. She took the 't' from her other letters and added it to the beginning of the word 'ouch' forming the word 'touch'. She couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed at the implication of that word and hoped that he wouldn't become suspicious.

But as he looked up at her with a playful glint, she found her cheeks becoming very warm, and her tone immediately became defensive. "That's all I had!" Nervously she cleared her throat and took another tile from the letter pile.

He smiled, his eyes commanding her attention. When her eyes finally met his, he said softly, "That's fine…that's a good word. Touch." He nodded and took his m, a, and y tiles and added them to the word 'be' on the board, forming the word 'maybe'. His eyes watched her expectantly as she concentrated on recording the score on the sheet and looked up to discover his new word.

She recorded the points on the sheet, and suppressed a smile. "Maybe," she thought with a raised eyebrow. _Well, two can bloody play_ _this game_. She removed her letters k and s and added them to the word "is" to form the word "kiss", looking up at him with a challenging smile.

He laughed then, exhilarated by her provocation. His eyes fell enthusiastically back onto his own letters. _Game on_, he thought.

Then Patrick realized he was enjoying this game very much.

_21 and a half minutes later_

He moved his letter _s_ onto the board. "S-e…"

"Stop right there, Patrick."

Patrick withdrew his hand and laughed. "What?" he asked with mock innocence. "Are you saying that you can have nipple and I can't have sex?"

Lizzie's eyes opened wide and she suppressed a laugh. "Will you please lower your voice?"

"I don't think you have to worry about Frankie-"

"No, my mother."

His eyebrows knit together and he lowered his voice. "Talk about double standards-"

"Nipple was a double letter score," she defended.

His eyes fell to his letters and he laughed.

"What?" Lizzie asked, confused.

"I can see where your mind is, Lizzie Morrison," he told her with a raised eyebrow, adding the letters e and m to the s and the e, forming the word 'seem'. "But, I don't even have the letter x." He moved his tiles within her view to prove his point.

Her mouth fell open, and she blushed again.

Over an hour later the two had just finished the game and were laughing, reading all the words that they had formed. Nell had already come out once to shush them. Lizzie, overcome by giggles, felt like a teenager again, and she wondered if her mother would send him home.

Patrick glanced at his watch in surprise and stretched his arms. Regretfully he told her, "It's late, and I have to go." He rose from his chair.

Lizzie nodded up at him. "Right," she agreed softly as she stood up.

Their eyes locked for a moment and neither made any movements.

"Do you want me to help clean up the game?" he asked her, feeling caught in her eyes again.

She shook her head and laughed. "No. I really should take a picture of this board. It's one of a kind."

A low laugh escaped his lips and he moved towards the door. His eyes were serious as he faced her. "I had a good time tonight."

She couldn't resist. "Don't sound so surprised." She let out a giggle. Her knees felt a little shaky as Patrick gazed down at her.

"That was definitely the best scrabble match I've ever played."

"Me too," she replied fondly.

Patrick wasn't sure if he had the strength to stick to his original plan. Inches from him she stood and all he wanted to do was take her into his arms. His body hungered for the warmth of her body against his and he wanted to hold her so close that he could experience the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat. His fingers longed to touch the silkiness of her hair. His lips wanted to savor the sweetness of her lips. Patrick had to remind himself that he did not have the luxury of touching her…not yet.

Every second that her eyes remained on his lips, he felt his resolve begin to diminish.

Her heart began to pound as they stood before each other. Her breathing was becoming unsteady and erratic. She wondered if he might kiss her this time.

Every ounce of her body longed for his touch and she felt like she was on pins and needles in anticipation of it. His turquoise eyes pierced hers, as though they were peering into her soul.

Her intake of breath was audible as she felt the sensation of his hand resting ever so gently on her cheek and her mind was unraveling from the feel of his thumb caressing the soft skin of her throat. Involuntarily her eyes shut, as though it would shield her from the overwhelming desire he was pulling from her.

His arms came around her strongly, forcefully; willing her body to his. One hand braced her head and leaned it gently onto his shoulder while the other drew goose bumps from her back with its caress.

Lizzie melted gratefully into his arms, and allowed her fingers to softly graze the back of his neck. She trembled from the exhilarating feel of his fingers running through her hair.

It was relief and it was torture as he held her. Patrick breathed in the floral scent of her perfume, still holding her tightly. His voice was husky as he whispered, "Have dinner with me, Lizzie. Tomorrow, 5:00."

Her eyes fluttered from the sensation of his breath in her ear and she shivered. She parted her lips to speak but nothing came out. She barely managed to nod.

He pulled away from her then, abruptly, backing away from her, one hand bracing the doorknob. God help him, he thought, if he didn't leave her at this moment.

Immediately she was faced with the abandonment of his body. It felt cold and empty. Helplessly, her eyes looked up at him.

He didn't face her; he wouldn't. Patrick couldn't allow himself to fall back into the temptation of her eyes again. His hand opened the door and he hesitantly stepped out. He had hoped that she might say something or do something…

But she only stood there.

"Bye, Lizzie."

Lizzie's face fell and she heaved a sigh. "Bye, Patrick. Goodnight." She stayed glued to her door, her fingers bracing the edge, and watched as he practically flew down the steps and out the door.

She felt like she was moving in slow motion as she closed the door and made her way back to the kitchen. Her heart pounded softly in her chest and a smile took over her lips as she gazed down at the Scrabble board. He was gone but she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks again as she read the words: tiger, maybe, wine, bed, touch, feel, nipple, seem, fall, lust, flesh, heart, and kiss.

A chuckle escaped her and she thought that was indeed the sexiest game of Scrabble she'd ever played.

* * *

A/N: Sorry to those who had trouble viewing chapter 11 last week. Those darn glitches!Grrrr! And thanks for your feedback. I always look forward to it! 


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: We're moving into a darker chapter here. Please review!

Chapter 13

She couldn't stop thinking about it; about them.

Her mind was consumed with Patrick and that woman. It was like a poison that ate slowly away at her insides. She'd barely been able to finish her work and she felt the beginnings of that headache again.

Gretchen took a deep breath and pulled her compact from her desk drawer. It was almost time to make her presentation and she inspected her image in the small, round mirror.

She fluffed her hair and let her eyes wander to the reflection of her face. Bags had settled under her eyes and though she'd tried to cover it with makeup, they shone brightly on her otherwise flawless face.

The bloody receptionist was right, she thought. The girl had had the nerve to inform Gretchen that she looked pale. Gretchen had in turn hissed at the girl. It only made sense that the receptionist was jealous and would say anything to make her feel bad about herself. Then again, sleep seemed to elude her the night before. With a dismissive shake of her head, she considered applying more makeup but hesitated. The meeting would begin any moment.

This was the worst possible time for her. Her emotional life was a wreck and her stomach was in knots. And she felt that any moment she might crumble into a pile of tears.

Her fingers snapped her compact shut and placed it back inside the desk drawer.

If only she could settle her stomach. Since the bagel that morning, her stomach had not been quite right. She made a mental note to stick with the plain bagels. Or, she thought, it was probably that bitchy brunette that put something on hers, or spat in it. Her mind filled with hateful thoughts and various ways she might avenge the nausea that bitch had caused.

"Gretchen, we're ready," her coworker, Bryan informed her.

Get it together, Gretchen, she told herself. And with that, the buxom blond stood, straightened her suit, and pasted a winning smile on her face.

* * *

Lizzie hung up the receiver and headed back to the front counter. 

"Who was that, Lizzie? Your boyfriend?" Maureen asked with a smile.

Lizzie smiled back at her. "He's not my boyfriend," she corrected. _Yet._ "Patrick said that something came up at work and he won't be able to make it tonight." She looked down at the big pile of dough that lay before her on the counter and tried to hide her disappointment.

A frown came across the older lady's face. "Well that's too bad, love."

A yawn overcame Lizzie and she tried to suppress it with her arm. "It's alright, though. We're rescheduling for tomorrow."

Maureen nodded and cocked her head to the side at Lizzie suspiciously. "You've been yawning all morning. Didn't you get enough sleep last night?"

Lizzie nodded and went about mixing the dough in front of her. Maureen picked up some dirty utensils and headed to the back room.

Her face lit up with a smile as she recalled their Scrabble match the night before. The truth was Patrick had left around midnight and she had to be at the bakery at six. With a giggle she wondered if he was as tired as she was. But it was worth it.

She couldn't help feel some disappointment that she wouldn't see him tonight but she understood how busy he was.

The absence of his kiss weighed heavy on her mind and she hoped that it was just her imagination. Certainly Patrick was interested in more than friendship. Still she had to wonder why it never went any further.

Absently, Lizzie set the spoon down and set about washing her hands when a young uniformed man walked in. He held an arrangement of red roses, sprinkled here and there with baby's breath. Her breath caught in her throat as the man approached her.

"Delivery for Lizzie Morrison."

A grin encompassed her face, and she felt her heart turn to mush. "Yes," she replied and eagerly accepted the gorgeous arrangement. "Thank you."

The young man nodded politely. "Have a good day," he said quickly then hurriedly left the bakery.

She inhaled the awesome fragrance of the flowers, lifting them to her nose with gentle fingers. With a smile she recalled the last time he'd sent flowers to her. She'd been upset, and impressed. Grateful that there were no people this time she set the arrangement down on the empty counter and pulled the tiny envelope from its small plastic holder.

Before opening the envelope she simply held it against her chest. She wanted to savor the moment. In her wildest dreams she'd never imagined herself to be the woman receiving flowers from a handsome man. Or just the thought of her heart beating wildly for just the idea that he would soon hold her in his arms; that he would gaze down at her with unforgettable eyes. A sigh escaped her and as she looked at the envelope, she knew her heart was his for the taking.

Her fingers gingerly removed the tiny card as though it were the most delicate china and would break with the slightest movement.

Before she could read the words a strange feeling shook her entire body. She felt like she was being watched. Her head snapped up, looking out at the street. Nothing. She looked all around the bakery and even turned around just to be sure. Nothing.

Lizzie shook her head at her silliness and turned her attention back to the card.

It read, "Lizzie, Thanks for being so understanding. I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. 5:00. Love, Patrick."

Another smile lit up her face and in spite of herself she lifted the card back to her chest, and settled her nose back to the delightful scent of the roses.

* * *

A single tear fell from her narrowed green eyes. 

Her mouth was in a snarl, and she balled her hands into fists so hard that she could feel the sharpness of her nails digging into them.

Patrick sent her flowers.

_Her._

Gretchen backed away from the bakery window as she observed Lizzie looking out. For the life of her she didn't know what Patrick saw in that woman. She hadn't witnessed him kissing her, but now he was sending her flowers.

Maybe she was wrong…

The blond shook her head, dismissing that thought very quickly. She was in love with Patrick. She was the only one who really knew him. They were meant to be together.

As she watched the mouse of a woman smiling, her nose buried in the flowers, Gretchen felt a wave of nausea pass through her again.

Brigitte's image appeared in her mind. She could see her mother's face so clearly; smiling and glowing. One hand on the chain and the other resting safely on her pregnant belly. Her eyes were bright and she spoke softly. "And you'll never want to let him go."

Gretchen felt anger welling up inside her. She had to get out of there and quick.

* * *

Gretchen's flat fell victim once again to one of her fits. 

Loud, piercing screams penetrated the rooms, more than likely upsetting her neighbors. Curses rung out accompanied by glass objects being slammed against walls.

Her anger was out of control. Not unlike her father's, she sourly recalled. Tightly she shut her eyes and just breathed. Her whole body was tense and she remembered the trick her therapist had taught her. She shook the tension from her hands and counted down. "Ten, nine, eight, seven..." Her body began to relax. "Six, five, four..." she took a slower breath. "Three...two...and one."

Her eyes opened, the anger disappeared like a cloud of smoke and she set her sight upon the broken pieces of glass. Melancholy swept through her and a frown came across her face. Absently her feet carried her to the fragments. Two fingers lifted one of the broken shards from the carpet. It belonged to a crystal vase that Patrick had given her. It had been her favorite and now as her finger traced the edge of the delicate piece she thought that it was ironic how a piece of glass could end her torment.

She was mesmerized by the way the light reflected off of it. _Just one slit in the right place..._

A loud pounding on the door distracted her.

"Gretchen! Open up."

It was Thomas. Since the night she'd seen Patrick and Lizzie she'd avoided Thomas like the plague. He'd left endless messages on her mobile and on her answering machine. She'd ignored them. It wasn't right, she told herself, to be stringing Thomas along when she was still in love with Patrick.

"Gretchen, I know you're there, love. Open up."

Gretchen stood and surveyed the damage she'd done to her flat. Glass bits lined the walls, sprinkled here and there about the carpet, several sofa cushions were strewn about the floor, her lamps knocked over, plants separated from their pots lay on her light beige carpet, the soil dirtying the floor.

She dropped the shard back onto the floor and wiped her sweaty forehead with her arm.

"Go away, Thomas," she shouted. "Right now's not a good time."

"I could hear you screaming from the elevator, Gretchen. What's this all about? C'mon let me in so we can talk."

_He did care_.

Tears began to form in her eyes again. She shook her head as she realized the result of her anger. Purposefully she strode to the kitchen to grab her wastebasket and returned quickly to her thrashed living room. Carefully her feet stepped, trying to avoid stepping on the broken glass.

"Gretchen. Let me in."

Her finger was nicked by one of the fragments she'd retrieved causing her to cry out in pain. "Dammit, Thomas, right now is a bad time!" she yelled, sticking her injured finger inside her mouth to relieve it. "Leave me alone!"

It was quiet then and she figured that Thomas left. He didn't know her well enough that he should avoid her foul moods.

She removed her finger from her mouth and inspected the clean slice the glass delivered which was already beginning to fill with blood. Her eyebrows knit in frustration as she covered her hurt finger with her hand applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

Cursing again, she kicked a couple of cushions that were laying on the floor.

_Patrick. It was all his fault._

Then the image of Lizzie admiring the flowers with that lovesick expression on her face appeared in her mind again.

Bile rose to her throat, and Gretchen's head involuntarily jerked forward. Covering her mouth with her injured hand, quickly she ran to her toilet, disposing of all the hatred and disgust she felt in her body and soul.

Everything hurt right now. Her head hurt, her heart hurt, and even her bloody finger hurt.

_It was all Patrick's fault._

After she splashed some cool water on her face and applied a bandage to her wound she made her way back to the broken glass. Piece after piece, she dropped into the trash. Tears ran down her face again. She picked up a shard that looked jagged. It almost reminded her of a knife. She found herself mesmerized again by the shape of the crystal. Even broken she could see its brilliant facets.

She loved Patrick and it hurt so much that all she wanted was the pain to go away. Tentatively she ran the piece up and down her wrist, so softly as not even to graze the skin. Her heart began to pound. She could end it right now…

Brigitte's smiling face appeared in Gretchen's mind again, startling her like an apparition.

Gretchen shook her head and set her eyes on the piece of glass in between her fingertips. Quickly she dropped it into the trash.

She was not her mother. She was not weak. Gretchen was not going to take her own life.

She took a deep breath and set to cleaning up the mess she made.

No, she thought, there had to be some way to get him back. And she was determined to find it.

* * *

"He's not your son, he's mine. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve his forgiveness." 

Davey lay there in the hospital bed, shaking his head, his body writhing in pain. His loud voice shouted curses at Lizzie, his breathing labored. His voice raised angrily, his eyes throwing daggers at Lizzie. "I want to see my son. I've got rights! I've got rights! I'm his father!"

Her voice sounded hoarse and she felt like she was losing control. "You're not his father!," she yelled back. "He's got a different father now. A real father. A kind, gentle man of a father who teaches him to throw stones across the water," she told him vehemently. "You could never be his father." Lizzie wasn't certain why she said that. There he was on his deathbed demanding to see his son. He had the audacity to tell her he had rights. It infuriated her. If he hadn't done the things that he'd done she wouldn't have left. She wouldn't have had to.

The stranger stood firmly in her mind. Idyllic, strong, perfect. He was exactly the kind of father Frankie deserved. Why had she lied to Davey just now? She wanted to hurt him, yes, even after all this time. Lizzie wanted him to feel pain and regret for what he'd lost. She wanted him to know that hers and Frankie's lives did not revolve around him; that they hadn't really spent the last 8 and a half years running away from his abuse; tormented and terrorized by the threat of him.

"I want to see my son!"

Bitter tears filled her eyes and she kept her distance from the angry man in the bed. Her heart was pounding as he continued to curse at her. Every ounce of her being was telling her to get out of there. She wanted to run...

Lizzie felt a tug on her sleeve and looked up, snapping her back to the present. Frankie pulled her attention to him from across the dining room table.

The nine-year-old had a smile on his face and was holding up a drawing for her. A colorful ocean scene with cartoon fish, complete with seaweed and sea urchins adorned the sheet of paper. Then with his other hand he reached another drawing. It was some fish, with big, bulging eyes, and small bubbles floating up to the top of the page. Frankie had been copying the drawing that Patrick had doodled the other day for him and Catriona.

She could plainly see that Frankie was enamored with Patrick and vice versa. They were a good match, Lizzie thought. It filled her heart with joy that they shared such a connection. Lizzie hadn't thought it possible. From the moment she left Davey she'd never considered another father for Frankie. The very idea was preposterous. She'd never considered another husband either.

Until now...

* * *

It was horrible. It was despicable. 

_It was perfect._

A satisfied smile graced Gretchen's full lips as she browsed the labeled boxes on the pharmacy shelf.

"EPT, Clearblue..." she read to herself. Her fingers grasped one and her eyes fell to the small print on the box. Any one of them would do.

It would explain everything, she thought. The headaches, the mood swings, the violent waves of nausea...

And she was late. Gretchen was never late.

A sublimely happy feeling washed over her. From the tips of her toes to the top of her head she was awash with happiness. She could already picture herself holding Patrick's baby in her arms; it's tiny fingers gripping tightly around her finger. Tears began to form in her eyes. She would hold it and love it; and the baby's tender smile would warm her heart. It's turquoise eyes would gaze lovingly at her. Just the thought of it made her absolutely giddy. This baby would live a normal, happy life; completely opposite of the one she'd had.

And with Patrick right there by her side.

Once she informed him he would no doubt marry her. Patrick was too honorable to do otherwise.

Maybe it was a boy, she thought with a smile. Patrick would finally have a son. It would fill the gaping hole inside him that the other left behind.

Gretchen grasped one of the boxes and tossed it into her basket carelessly. It was just a technicality after all; the proof that Patrick would need. There could only be one father. In her mind there were no doubts. In her heart and soul she was already sure she would test positive.

And tomorrow night she would share the good news with the baby's daddy.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thanks so much as always for your feedback. I love to hear from you! Well, here goes nothing...please let me know what you think!

Chapter 14

"Gretchen, it's me again. Listen, I don't know what's going on but I really want to see you. Call me."

She shook her head as she erased Thomas's message from her machine. He hadn't stopped calling. As she headed to the mirror to check her makeup she made a mental note to ask him to stop. Her eyes gazed at her reflection in the mirror, straightening her skirt and her stockings. After one last fluff to her hair, her fingers reached for her car keys and she quickly left her flat.

* * *

Armed with a dozen pink roses in hand, Patrick wore a bright smile as Lizzie opened up the door. 

"Hello, Lizzie."

Her eyes lit up as he handed them to her. "Hello, Patrick," she replied softly, leading him inside her flat. Her nose gratefully inhaled the fragrance of the flowers and she smiled up at him, feeling her breath catch in her throat as his eyes gazed appreciatively at her.

"You look beautiful," he told her, leaning in daringly and kissing her lightly on her cheek.

Lizzie shivered from the feel of his lips. "So do you," she replied, looking up at him breathlessly.

Frankie appeared and threw his arms around Patrick, bringing Lizzie back to reality.

"I'd better put these in a vase."

The enthusiastic boy led him in with a big smile. Quickly Frankie darted off to his room leaving Patrick behind and leaving his eyes to get a healthy second helping of Lizzie.

He admired the way she wore her hair down, curly tendrils hugging the delicate frame of her face. Dressed in a knee length black dress that clung generously to her curves his eyes observed the way the satiny fabric draped her body, contrasting her cream colored skin. He could only imagine how it would feel to run his fingers along the smooth contours, and press his lips to her silky skin...

"Take a bloody picture then. It'll last longer," Nell told him with a smirk, interrupting his fantasy. She stood before him considerably shorter, but firm like a brick wall, and strong as steel.

Patrick snapped his eyes down to the woman before him and spoke uncomfortably. "Hello, Nell."

Nell narrowed her brown eyes sharply at the handsome man. "Don't have her back too late now. She has work early in the morning."

Lizzie gaped at her mother's command. "Mother!"

Good naturedly he smiled. "Right. Of course," Patrick replied. He didn't know how, but Lizzie's mother sure did have a way of making him feel twenty years younger. That may have been a good thing if he didn't feel so nervous under her watchful eyes.

She stepped away muttering and made her way towards the coffee table. "Lizzie, are you sure you haven't seen it?"

Lizzie's fingers gingerly arranged the roses in the vase. "No, Mother, I haven't seen your bloody lighter. It's probably wherever you left it last."

Frustrated, Nell shook her head and continued to search the room, lifting up her tabloids, reaching inside the couch cushions, and feeling around the carpeted floor underneath the sofa for her lighter.

Patrick watched the woman with interest and dipped his hand into his pocket. Tentatively he approached the older woman, as though she might snap at him like one of those angry little Chihuahuas. She continued to mutter to herself when Patrick interrupted her.

"Here," he offered. "Take this one." He pulled a rectangular shiny brass lighter from his pocket and offered it to Nell.

Her eyes darted back and forth from his face to the lighter and back to his face again. It had been a whole hour that she'd been searching for it and her mood had turned downright foul. His knowing smile pierced through the heart of her anger and her gaze settled on him timidly.

"Go on, then. Take it," he urged, pushing his hand closer to her. "I don't need it."

A meek smile came across her lips just then, and gratefully her fingers accepted his offering.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. The nine-and-a-half-year-old stood before him. With a puppy dog expression he held up one finger.

Patrick let out a chuckle and Lizzie observed her son's curious request.

"What is it, Frankie?" she asked standing now between Patrick and her son.

A smile crossed Patrick's lips as he replied, "He wants me to draw him a picture."

Lizzie shook her head at Frankie, "Not tonight, son. We're leaving."

"One quick one, eh Frankie?" Patrick couldn't resist. It was another common interest that they shared and he looked forward to moments like these.

Frankie's face lit up with delight and his other hand quickly delivered a pad of paper and pencil.

"How about a seahorse?" he asked making his way to the couch to sit. Frankie nodded eagerly and Patrick turned to Lizzie. "It'll just take a minute."

With amusement Lizzie watched as her son sat beside Patrick, his brown eyes glued to the pad of paper. At that moment she would've loved to capture the moment with a camera. Patrick's brows were furrowed in concentration as he quickly sketched and Frankie was practically hanging on him.

Nell had joined them on the couch and had already lit up her cigarette, her face showing instant relief with her first puff.

His pencil worked steadily on the paper and once he finished up the final detail he turned to Frankie. "How's that?" he asked handing Frankie back his notepad.

The boy nodded happily and turned it towards Nell so she could see it. She acknowledged it with a smile and Frankie sprung up to show it to his mother.

Lizzie's eyes studied the animated sketch with amusement. It was a lively caricature of a seahorse, complete with bubble eyes and a large mouth exposing large teeth resembling that of a horse. It even had reins so that some sea cowboy could ride it. She couldn't help but be impressed.

He stood before her, his masculine presence filling up the room. His turquoise eyes gazed down at her admiringly and a small smile settled on his face. "Ready?"

She nodded, gave Frankie a quick peck on the cheek and said goodnight to her mother. As she headed for the door, she caught a whiff of Patrick's irresistible scent. He was impeccably dressed in dark slacks, a sweater, and a sportscoat. Once again he looked as though he'd stepped out of a catalog.

With painful restraint Patrick helped Lizzie into her coat and resisted the urge to kiss her right then and there in front of God and everybody. How many times had he fought that urge, he wondered. A hundred times? A thousand?

Before he could consider it any further they were heading down the steps of her building and out on their first official date.

* * *

_When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore; When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, that's amore._

The sound of Frank Sinatra's voice rang softly through the restaurant.

"And so Marie loved Nana's fish and chips so much that she decided everyone else would too. Nana thought it was a good idea and the rest is history," Patrick told Lizzie lifting his wine glass to his lips. It could've been the wine but he figured himself to be more intoxicated by her beauty. He couldn't take his eyes off of her.

Lizzie smiled and twisted her fork nervously into her spaghetti. "I worked for Marie for a whole month and she never told me that," she replied, trying to make conversation. It was difficult indeed, with the look in Patrick's eyes making her feel self conscious. She'd made the extra effort by treating herself to a new dress, applying mascara to accentuate her eyes, and even curling her hair. She was happy to find his approval. Tonight after all, was a very special night. And as her own eyes settled on his devastatingly handsome face she had to remind herself to keep her thoughts in check.

Patrick continued to gaze at her, the brown of her eyes reflecting the orange glow of the candle light. He felt that powerful pull from them when the vibrating pulse of his mobile phone caught his attention. With dread his eyes darted down to the caller id. _Gretchen_. For some reason Gretchen had been calling him all day. He decided to ignore her and try his best to enjoy his long awaited date with Lizzie. He ignored the mobile phone and smiled to Lizzie. Somehow he would have to deal with Gretchen later.

"I'd like to make a toast."

With her cloth napkin, Lizzie demurely dabbed at the corners of her mouth and smiled. A blush flooded her cheeks from his charming smile and she hoped that she wasn't wearing some dopey, lovesick expression on her face as she moved her fingers to her wine glass. With a nod she lifted up her goblet.

"To...new beginnings."

Her glass met his with a clink. "New beginnings," Lizzie repeated.

* * *

His eyes were temporarily captivated by the painting before them. His head tilted thoughtfully as he scrutinized the design. 

Lizzie's hand lay gently on his shoulder and she had to smile at the boyish wonder in his expression. She felt somewhat relieved that all his attention wasn't on her. Sometimes the heat from his powerful gaze had been overwhelming and she didn't trust her knees to hold her up. It had been at least a solid minute and he stood quietly taking in every nuance of the art.

"You like this one then?" she asked finally breaking the silence. To her delight he rewarded her query by sliding his arms possessively around her waist.

He set his eyes fondly back to Lizzie's and smiled gently squeezing her to him. "This oil painting is brilliant," he remarked setting his eyes back towards the framed art. His face lit up as he spoke."Ya see how the sunset reflects off the ocean waves? Or how there's about a thousand tiny sparkles shining in the water? Or the way the boy in the picture just stands watching, and even though you can only see his profile you can see the longing and the wonder in his expression...It's beautiful," he breathed.

He looked down at her and reached for her hand. "I've gotten carried away."

Lizzie smiled up at him savoring the feel of his hand holding hers; the way his thumb ran along her knuckle flirtatiously. "You're an artist, after all."

With a laugh he squeezed her hand and led her down the long hallway. "No, I wouldn't call it that. I like to draw caricatures for fun. Something of a hobby. I think there is real art to be found in photography. That's another of my hobbies."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise and couldn't resist leaning her head on his shoulder. "So yer a man of many talents."

"Photography is more than snapping a picture. It's capturing a moment in time. When the setting is still, the timing perfect, the mood is right, and the lighting is precise...that is art."

"Did you ever think of becoming a photographer?"

He smiled, happy to share all this with her, enjoying their closeness. "There were times when I did, but in the end, I'm happy where I'm at."

Lizzie laced her fingers in his and they stopped for a moment. "So when you were a little boy what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"Like most other boys I went back and forth between police officer and firefighter."

She giggled to herself, immediately picturing his tall figure in uniform.

His eyes danced amusedly at her laugh. "So what did Lizzie Morrison want to be?"

"Hennesy," she replied looking up at his confused expression. "I was born Elizabeth Hennesy."

He was quiet for a moment as he watched her. "Well then what did Miss Hennesy want to be when she grew up?"

The sound of the gentle clicking of her heels filled the silence. Her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the shiny tile floor. "I've always wanted to write. Ever since I could remember I always enjoyed writing. And it didn't matter what it was. I was always busy writing in my journal or making up short stories or writing letters." Lizzie looked up at his admiring eyes. "I even fancied myself writing lyrics for songs, poems, novels or even articles for newspapers or magazines."

"So do you still write?"

"Not since I wrote to Frankie. I'm just not inspired. I haven't been inspired for years. But I think about it. I think about it a lot." There was an easy comfortable silence as they walked contentedly hand in hand from one painting to the next. Her eyes turned to his suddenly. "What about you? Will you show me your photographs sometime?"

A smile crossed his face and he nodded, happy that she would be interested in seeing them. "Anytime you want to see them I would love to show them to you."

Patrick was going to kiss Lizzie tonight.

It was inevitable. He could feel it deep inside; this inherent truth.

Tonight was the night he was finally going to kiss Lizzie Morrison.

It was long awaited. It was not even their first kiss, yet it was the one that truly mattered. He did not take it lightly. Patiently he watched for all her cues. From the way she squeezed his hand as they strolled through the art gallery to the way her eyes shined when she looked up at him, or even the way she leaned her head upon his shoulder as they gazed at a picture; all these signs gave him the encouragement he needed. It was the long anticipated permission that he'd been seeking. So here it was, he decided. He had her unspoken permission...

And when the moment was right, he would at last kiss her.

* * *

Gretchen snapped her phone shut again. She'd tried endlessly to contact him. He was no doubt with _her_. 

She was feeling desperate now. Driving around in her car for hours, she'd already been to his beachhouse, to all the restaurants; she searched everywhere. She had to find him.

Impatiently she dialed his mobile again. "Pick up, pick up!" she screamed into the device then snapped it shut, tossing it into the passenger seat.

Her fingernails dug into the steering wheel. She was determined not to give up.

* * *

Patrick's arm draped Lizzie's shoulder as they strolled the sandy beach. The cool ocean breeze drew them close together. The night air was chilly and the heat from their closeness kept them suitably warm. 

The night was lit up with the aid of the full moon and the bright stars dotting the sky. Patrick and Lizzie walked along silently, the sound of the ocean waves crashing on the shore setting the mood.

"Who was that woman, Patrick?" Lizzie asked him, semi twirling the straps of her heels on her fingers. She hated asking him this but it was something that had bothered her since the blond woman made her presence known at Marie's.

Patrick turned his gaze to Lizzie. "You must mean Gretchen," he replied. He could see the tension in Lizzie's face.

She couldn't help herself and looked away still feeling a stab of jealousy just at the mention of the woman's name.

"Gretchen was my girlfriend on and off for years. We met when we were at university."

"You were..." she paused, feeling very uneasy and swallowed the lump in her throat. "You were going to marry her?"

His eyes snapped to her in confusion. His heart sank at the knowledge that Lizzie could even feel threatened by her.

"Marie and Cindy said that you didn't go through with it but you were going to propose to Gretchen," she said sourly. The sound of the blond woman's name on her tongue left an awful taste in her mouth.

Patrick stopped and looked deeply into Lizzie's eyes. Hurt and sadness filled them. "Aye, it's true," he nodded. "I thought she was the one." He let out a sigh and looked out at the waves. "Everyone tried to convince me otherwise, but I didn't want to believe it."

Lizzie's eyes looked away. It was a very disturbing thought. She hated that he could've ever imagined spending the rest of his life with that awful woman.

He set his eyes back on Lizzie and turned her troubled face to his with his finger. "Until I met you, Lizzie."

Tears began to form in her eyes as she looked up at his earnest face. She could feel her heart racing as his turquoise eyes confirmed his words. His eyes set off an explosion inside her. Wall after wall came tumbling down like a chain of dominoes. It left Lizzie with a naked, vulnerable feeling. Her nerves were shaken and she felt her whole body tremble from it.

Patrick pulled her closer to him, never taking his gaze from the powerful spell of her eyes. Gently he faced her and set his hands just below her shoulders moving them up and down for warmth.

She tore her eyes from the comfort of his gaze. Her stomach battled with an army of butterflies and the powerful feel of his hands on her arms had awoken every nerve ending.

_He's going to kiss me. Oh God._

Lizzie met his eyes again fearfully. "Patrick?" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. The sound of her heartbeat was so loud she was sure he could hear it.

He moved one hand up to her cheek, letting his thumb run across the smoothness of her jawline, his gaze steady on her lips. "Yes?"

A single tear escaped and her eyes pleaded with him. "Please don't hurt me."

The thought nearly killed him as he looked down at her. He wiped away the tear with a single finger, his handsome face serious, and whispered, "Never."

Her lips curved into a shy smile as he brought his other hand to her face holding it with strong fingers delicately as if she were a fine porcelain doll. He gave her a smile that wreaked havoc on her heart and she felt heady from his touch. Her eyes fluttered and as he drew closer she felt herself falling and falling...

Slowly he slid his fingers up into her hair causing her flesh to erupt into goosebumps. His mouth came down agonizingly slow, his lips pressing lightly to hers at first, so achingly tender, so subdued that Lizzie's fingers instinctively let go of her shoes, letting them drop carelessly to the sand, and urgently encircled his waist. Desperately her lips responded, as though this were the feverish culmination of a life long courtship. Her hands caressed the muscles of his back, and as he deepened the kiss she felt her body simmer with desire.

Patrick was lost. Encompassed within the fiery bliss of her lips, the intoxicating closeness of her body, and the sea of emotions possessing his mind Patrick indeed realized he was lost. And as he ran gentle fingers through the silkiness of her hair and up and down her back he knew at that very moment that he could not ever live without this woman.

So new, so foreign was this passion to Patrick and Lizzie that as their lips finally retreated from one another they were rendered breathless, and the ache from the absence of each other's kiss left them trembling. Forehead to forehead they stayed locked in an embrace and at that moment no one else existed. Time stood still and nothing else mattered.

* * *

Purposefully she strode to the beach where she spotted them embracing just above the shoreline. 

Her blood was boiling, her heart was pounding, and the fury inside her body and soul thrust her legs forward, every step calculated. She wanted to punish him and hurt him the way he'd hurt her. Gretchen loved him and in her eyes he had no right to be with _that _woman.

It was time, she thought. She was going to tell him and there was no doubt in her mind that Patrick would leave that woman.

Her pace quickened but then Brigitte's brilliant green eyes appeared in her mind once again, halting her dead in her tracks.

With the force of a hurricane the lucid memory thrust itself back into her consciousness. Suddenly Gretchen could see herself, four-years-old again swinging alongside her mother. It was as though she'd stepped into a time machine. For a moment she was transformed back into the comforting memory.

"I want to be in love, Mum."

"Someday you will, love."

The four-year-old sighed, a long dreamy sigh.

One hand caressed her swollen pregnant belly. Brigitte's German accent was thick but gentle as she spoke lovingly to her daughter. "And you'll never want to let him go." She was quiet for just a moment before she added, "Truly loving someone with all your heart, Gretchen, also means that you care more for their happiness than you do for your own."

The image dissolved from her mind and Gretchen stood still, shaking her head. She'd never in her life known what that meant. But as she watched the man she loved smiling down at that mouse of a woman, gazing at her in a way she'd only wished he'd look at her, Gretchen finally understood.

She bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. A cool breeze swept through lifting her blond hair from her shoulders and stinging the tears in her eyes. And as Gretchen watched Patrick holding that woman, she'd felt like she wanted to die.

She let out a breathless curse, turned, and headed back towards her car, kicking up sand with her heels as she stormed away. Tears stained her lovely face and she wiped them away with her perfectly manicured hands. Her fingers fumbled with her car door and her body limply fell into her seat. Racked by sobs Gretchen sat, her whole body shuddering violently.

Fate had been cruel to her. All she'd ever wanted was for a man to love and care for her; to raise a family together, to share the joy of unconditional love that an infant would bring.

This was not her time to have a baby. She hadn't really believed the negative result from the pregnancy test anyhow. However the true evidence came early that morning to Gretchen's dismay. Her menstrual cycle had begun and there was no denying it.

The musical ringtone of her mobile phone startled her. She took a few long deep breaths and as her fingers fumbled around her passenger seat for it she vowed never to see Patrick again.

"Hello, Thomas."

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: The alerts are working! Yay!! (jumps for joy) In case this happens again be sure to check back weekly. I try to update at least once a week. Well, thanks so much to those who reviewed! This one's kind of long, so don't forget to let me know what you think.

**Chapter 15 -** The Bloody Awful Day

"I want to know who's responsible for this!" the lady shouted angrily, her blond eyebrows furrowed.

It had been busy since the bakery opened that morning. The queue had been nonstop and the customers behind her were all watching Maureen and Lizzie questioningly. Maureen stayed calm, trying to allay the woman.

"We really are very sorry."

"That's not bloody good enough, now is it?" the lady hissed. She turned slightly facing the rest of the queue. "Imagine the look on my poor Ricky's face as we opened up the cake and didn't find "Happy Birthday, Ricky". Oh no, instead it said "Happy Birthday, Jason"! " Her whole face was red and a bright vein was bulging from her forehead. "My ten-year-old son's birthday was ruined because you idiots can't get a bloody name right on a cake!"

Maureen pulled the lady to the side and Lizzie began to help the next customer. Lizzie's heart was pounding and she wondered if her face was the same shade as the screaming lady. Lizzie pasted a smile on her face and listened to the lady in front of her carefully but secretly she was so angry with herself that she wanted to scream.

"I want to know who's responsible for this! Was it you?" the lady asked Maureen.

"We would be happy to refund your money and your next cake will be free," Maureen replied, her face ever cheerful.

Lizzie reached half a dozen muffins for the customer in front of her as the cake lady continued to rant at her poor boss.

"Your damn right I want my money back, but I still want to know who did this!" she screamed.

"Please, let's calm down now," Maureen replied in her most diplomatic tone.

"Who bloody did this?" she demanded. "Was it you?!" she interrogated, her eyes wild. She looked like she wanted blood and wouldn't settle for anything less.

Maureen ignored her question and stepped in front of the cash register with lightning speed. The quicker that she got this woman out the better. She opened up the cash drawer and counted out the cost of the cake.

The irate lady's fists pounded on the counter and the other customers stared at her shaking their heads.

"Who did it? I want to know who ruined my ten-year-old's birthday?!"

"It was me," Lizzie admitted, her eyes meeting the angry lady's hesitantly. She was completely at fault and she couldn't let Maureen take the blame for her.

The woman's sharp brown eyes stared angrily at Lizzie and she approached her at the counter. "You?"

"That's right. I'm very sorry," Lizzie replied sincerely, handing the woman in front of her the bag of muffins.

"You're the idiot who can't get a bloody name on a cake right?"

"Now, now," Maureen interrupted. "We all make mistakes from time to time and I can assure you we're very sorry." She handed the lady her money.

The lady's eyes angrily turned back to Maureen. "That mistake of hers ruined my son's birthday! The kids all made fun of him and called him Jason the rest of the party. How many more times in his life do you think he's going to turn ten?"

Lizzie gulped, wishing she had a time machine. There had been a line of people the day before and she'd been so busy that she hadn't checked the box to be sure. The if onlies hit Lizzie with a vengeance. _If only I would've taken a couple of seconds to look inside_. The boxes were labeled wrong so it was painfully clear to Lizzie that someone else had gotten Ricky's cake. _If only the lady would stop glaring at me..._

Maureen scribbled something on the receipt tape and promptly handed it to the woman. "Like we said, we're very sorry, please accept our apologies, and bring this back next time and your next cake will be free."

"Fire her."

Lizzie gaped at the angry woman and looked back at Maureen. Her poor boss looked like she'd had enough.

Maureen turned her eyes to the next customer. "Next," she said pleasantly, motioning for Lizzie to take the next customer. Once again she faced the angry cake lady and pushed the slip of paper across the counter to her. "Good day, Mrs. Munro."

It was almost possible to see the smoke coming out of the lady's ears. Her hand met the paper on the counter sharply. "This does me no good if that twit is still going to be working here!"

"Next," Maureen called out, motioning to help the next customer.

With that the angry Mrs. Munro picked up the paper Maureen scribbled, and ripped it dramatically, throwing the bits into the air and stormed out.

Every person in the bakery breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Lizzie was still shaken up by the whole incident. An hour later when the bakery was finally empty, a young uniformed man showed up delivering some pink roses with delightfully perfect timing.

Her face lit up and she buried her nose in the blooms. She hadn't forgotten about the night before. How could she?

Maureen smiled at Lizzie. "That's some man you've got there, Lizzie," she told her admiring the beautiful arrangement.

Lizzie nodded happily, set the flowers down on the counter, and looked up at Maureen earnestly. "I'm really very sorry, Maureen."

"Don't think anything of it, Lizzie. You just saved us the hassle of not having to deal with her again," she winked. "Besides, what kind of a mother doesn't check the cake? Mistakes happen."

"What about the people who got Ricky's cake?"

Maureen's kind smile reminded Lizzie of her grandmother's. "We'll deal with that when it happens. Now go take your break."

Lizzie nodded obediently, picked up the arrangement, and took it to the back office with her. Gingerly she sat the vase on Maureen's desk and picked up the telephone. "Hello, may I speak to Patrick, please?"

Margaret smiled at the timid voice on the line. She recognized Lizzie right away. This woman apparently was the cause of Patrick's new found happiness. Margaret was filled with relief that she didn't have to deal with the blond disaster anymore.

"Just a moment, Lizzie," Margaret replied and put her on hold.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Patrick," she said, the sound of his voice sending warm fuzzies throughout her body.

Patrick smiled happily. "Hi Lizzie. How are you?"

Her finger gently caressed one of the rosebuds. "I'm better now. Thank you for the flowers."

He silently cursed the two other lines that were blinking, practically screaming for his attention. "I'm so glad that you called, Lizzie, but I'm going to have to call you back. Things are a bit chaotic right now."

With a nod of her head she replied, "That's alright, Patrick. I just wanted to hear your voice." She sat in her chair, hugging her knees to her chest. When she closed her eyes she could almost imagine the feel of his lips...

"I'll try to make it over there later."

Her heart began to race just at the thought. "Alright," she answered. She could tell by the rushed way he was speaking that he must've been very busy.

"I've gotta go, Lizzie. Bye."

He listened to her say goodbye and laid the receiver back onto its base. It was nice to hear her voice but as much as he would've liked to think about Lizzie at that moment, he had too many things to deal with.

His fingers rubbed at his temples and he set his eyes on the teenage boy sitting nervously in the chair across from him. "So, I'm going to give you a chance, Tim," he began, reaching for the bottle of aspirin in his desk drawer. "You can pay back the money you took from the cash drawer and I won't press charges."

The boy leaned up in his seat defensively. "Mr. Connelly, I told ya already. I didn't take the money!"

Patrick sighed and reached a remote control from the top of the desk. He turned the chair towards the corner wall of the office where a television was hung. "Well, the security tape here says different."

Tim slumped down in his chair and looked down defeatedly. "I don't have it."

The sound of Margaret's voice buzzed in over the intercom. "Patrick?"

He took a breath and replied to Margaret. _What now_, he thought.

"It's Eddie. He says the fire department's evacuating the whole block. Line 2."

Patrick cursed under his breath and pressed the red flashing button. And that was when the whole building lost their power.

* * *

Ricky's hurtful remark at school that day had brought Frankie to tears. He'd run right out of the lunchroom before anyone else could see. Catriona had caught up to him and being the caring friend that she was, she came up with an idea. 

"I could teach you how to speak, Frankie," she'd told him excitedly. "Watch my lips; the way they form the words and copy what I do."

Frankie was hesitant at first, but out there by the big shade tree in the field it was only him and Catriona. The only time he'd ever spoken was to Patrick the night that he left. As Catriona continued on enthusiastically he felt better already. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he missed five on his geography test, and that they served meatloaf in the school cafeteria that day for lunch; Frankie already began to feel confident that his day was getting better.

As the two made their way home from school that day they practiced. Walking side by side, Catriona began with the alphabet and demonstrated with exaggerated lip movements, encouraging Frankie to copy.

"Alright now, when you form the letter "b", Frankie-"

She was cut off by Ricky Munro. He'd ran up behind Frankie pushing him roughly forward, nearly causing him to fall. The young bully got right up in Frankie's face. "Mute boy. Mute boy. Deaf and dumb."

"Shut up, Ricky!" she spat, narrowing her brown eyes at Ricky. "Just bug off!"

"What are you doing with the deaf-mute boy anyway, Catriona?" Ricky taunted.

Catriona stepped forward until she was right in Ricky's face, tossing her hair haughtily. "I said shut up."

"Oh yeah, what are you gonna do?" he teased.

She balled her hand into a fist and shook it at him. "I'm gonna put my fist up your nose," she retorted, her lips formed into a snarl. "Leave Frankie alone."

Ricky rolled his eyes at the girl, turned on his heels, and walked away in the other direction.

Catriona made sure he was gone before she turned around. "Don't listen to Ri-" she started. But it was too late. Frankie had already run off.

* * *

"Aw c'mon, Lizzie. You're not being fair. I've already let ya see mine." 

"Absolutely not," Lizzie answered firmly. She stood her ground, her eyes showing no sign of backing down.

Patrick smiled incredulously at her. "C'mon. It can't be as bad as all that, then."

Nell rolled her eyes at her daughter. "Lizzie, just let him bloody see it already."

Lizzie's mouth was set in a line and she clutched the photo album even tighter to her chest. Her eyes darted back and forth from Patrick to her mother. "It's just awful. I should've burned these when I had the chance."

Nell stood up from the couch making her way to her defiant daughter. "Oh no, you don't. Those are _my_ photographs, Elizabeth. They belong to _me_." She held out her arms to Lizzie and raised a challenging eyebrow. "Hand it over."

Her eyes looked pleadingly into her mother's. "Mother, please."

"Give it here."

Patrick watched with amusement the battle of wills going on between Lizzie and her mum and suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for her. He stood up and stepped towards Nell. "It's alright, Nell. If it means so much to Lizzie that I don't see them, then I won't." He remembered how painfully embarrassing it was for him to let her see his pictures.

Lizzie's eyes softened as she settled her gaze on Patrick. She felt her insides begin to melt. "Really?"

Patrick nodded his reply when Frankie burst through the door. The disturbed boy didn't make eye contact with any of them and proceeded strictly to his room. Lizzie was alarmed by his strange entrance.

She handed the photo album to her mother and made her way to Frankie's doorway. Right away Lizzie felt his sadness as she observed his young deflated body sitting slumped on the bed. Had he had a bad day too? Slowly she approached him and tapped him softly on his shoulder until his sad eyes met hers.

"Hey, you alright, Frankie?" she asked and signed.

The boy looked away from her and turned his body slightly towards the window.

Lizzie moved to his other side and knelt before him. "Frankie? What's going on?"

Meanwhile, Patrick's eyes feasted hungrily on Lizzie's photos, and Nell was all too happy to give an informative narration of every one. Patrick's grin was a mile wide as he quickly took in image after image of the young brown-haired girl. Page after page, he couldn't understand what she could've been so ashamed of. She was a beauty even as a child. It was remarkable, he thought, how much Frankie resembled her. There was a school picture he couldn't seem to tear his eyes from. Her bangs were past her eyebrows, her long brown hair in pigtails and she wore a simple smile. But her eyes even back when she was Frankie's age were mesmerizing as they shone brightly from the picture before him.

He finally tore his gaze from it when Nell had gone to check on Lizzie and Frankie.

"What's wrong with Frankie?" Nell asked from the doorway.

Lizzie shrugged her shoulders, looking helplessly up at her mother.

With a concerned grandmother's face, Nell made her way to Frankie and looked down into his sad eyes. "What's wrong, Frankie? Won't you tell me?"

With furrowed brows Frankie shook his head and turned his head downward to the floor. He was so embarrassed about what happened at school and what Ricky had called him he just couldn't bring himself to tell his mother or nana.

"How about me, Frankie? Will you tell me what's wrong?"

Nell and Lizzie's heads snapped up at the deep voice coming from the doorway; Patrick's presence so powerful it dominated the room.

The boys eyes met Patrick's and he straightened his posture. It was only a moment before he lifted his finger to point to Patrick. He signed to him, "Just you."

Lizzie gaped at her son, and Patrick's victorious smile didn't escape her. She and Nell left the room leaving Frankie to communicate his troubles.

* * *

"It seems that a boy in Frankie's class made fun of him today and called him mute," Patrick explained as Lizzie walked him down the steps of her building. 

Lizzie's face fell. She felt bad for her son and felt like hurting the boy who made Frankie feel this way. She turned from Patrick to head back up to her flat. The only thing she wanted was to wrap her arms around her son and comfort him.

"No," Patrick advised and grabbed her shoulders. "He didn't tell you and your mother because he doesn't want you feeling sorry for him. Frankie is a strong boy and he can handle it. His friend, Catriona is helping him to speak, and I think all he really wants is help and support."

She nodded, her eyes turned to the ground. As Patrick let his fingers soothingly rub into her shoulders she immediately felt grateful that he was there. Her arms encircled his waist and she held to him tightly. "Thank you."

They stood before the doorway and as he looked down into her mesmerizing eyes he found it extremely difficult to part from her. "Your welcome," he whispered. He set his lips gently down onto hers, reclaiming the blissful feeling of the night before. He'd been wanting to do this the whole day and now as his arms enveloped the warmth of her body, Patrick wanted to stay like that forever.

They stood like that for a long moment, locked in an embrace, neither wanting to part. Hesitantly Patrick lifted his head and gazed into Lizzie's eyes.

"I left a mountain of paperwork back at the office and I still have to get out to the other location," he said with a sigh. "I wish I didn't have to go back."

Lizzie squeezed him tighter. "Me too. You coming here today was the best part of my day."

He raised an eyebrow. "Have ya had a bad day?"

She sighed at just the mention of it. "It was bloody awful."

Patrick nodded sympathetically. "Mine too."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. You?"

Lizzie shook her head, trying to shake the unpleasant feeling away. "No, but I guess we're not the only ones. Ma said she almost got hit by a car today and she still can't find the television remote. I'm not sure which one is worse, " she laughed.

He gave her an amused smile. "It's true, we weren't alone. It sounds like Frankie had a tough day as well," he said and turned them towards the door. "My sister too. She sprained her ankle."

They walked through the door and Lizzie looked up at him with a concerned expression. "Should we go check in on her?"

No sooner had she said that when the sound of angry voices leaving Marie's caught their attention. Patrick and Lizzie could hear the complaints about the service as they stormed out.

Patrick shook his head at Lizzie. "This can't be good," he told her making a beeline for Marie's shop.

They both gaped as they walked in the door. It was full of people. Some were seated at the tables still waiting for their menus, and there was a queue longer than Lizzie had ever seen. As Patrick disbelievingly watched the upset patrons his eyes darted around for Marie.

She suddenly appeared from the back room with a tray of fish in her hands, hopping on one foot. Her face was pale and she grimaced as she limped her way back to the counter.

"Marie? What's going on?" Patrick asked her, his eyes taking in the sight of her badly swollen ankle. "Where's-"

"Sick. Marta called in sick. Cindy's been in school all day and won't be in for another couple of hours," she told him placing the fish in the warmer. "Next." Her eyes fixed on the next patron waiting.

Patrick grabbed an apron from the back and in a flash was by Marie's side. "Marie, I want you to call Ally, tell him to come pick you up and take you home." He set his attention to the line in front of them. "Next person, please?"

Marie's eyes softened. "Ally's at work, and I can't just leave you here."

"Lizzie, will you please call a cab for Marie?" he asked Lizzie. He turned his attention back to his sister. "Look at the size of your ankle. I think it's more than just a sprain. You need to get home, elevate that foot, and get some ice on that ankle.

Tears began to fill her eyes at just the thought. "Patrick...I ca-"

Patrick handed the customer their change and their order with a polite smile. "Sorry for the wait. Come again." He set his eyes on the next patron, elbowing Marie away.

"The cab will be here in five minutes," Lizzie announced, pulling the smock over her head. Quickly she grabbed a notepad, some menus and made her way to the seated customers. "Sorry for the wait. What can I get you?"

Marie knew she had no choice. Once her brother had taken over that was it. She was no longer in charge and she knew he was right. Her ankle had been killing her and for hours she'd been gritting her teeth. Until the cab arrived she assisted Patrick at the front, trying to stay in one place and gave Lizzie a grateful smile as she busily filled the customer's orders.

It looked as though they were making progress with their queue but still more people trickled in. The cab arrived and Lizzie went to the back to retrieve Marie's purse.

Patrick looked at his sister, who'd made no move to leave. "Go on, Marie, yer cab's here. Go on."

Marie's eyes began to flood with grateful tears as Lizzie braced her arm around her shoulder to help her out. "Thank you, Patrick. I love you, brother," she said tearfully. "Thank you, Lizzie. I love you too."

Lizzie smiled to her weepy former boss as she helped her to the entrance, Marie leaving a string of "ow's" with every step.

"Bye, Marie," he told his sister. "Put some ice on that ankle," he advised, never taking his eyes from the patron before him.

Lizzie pulled open the door and Marie couldn't help shouting out again, "Thank you brother, I love you!" she cried out appreciatively. " I love you."

Patrick nodded, his hands busy with fish and chips. "I love you, sister," he called out distractedly and his eyes turned up to Lizzie helping Marie out the door. "And I love you too, Lizzie."

Lizzie's eyes flew open wide and her heart was pounding as she helped Marie into the cab. She almost felt like she couldn't catch her breath. With a smile she told her injured friend, "Get some rest, Marie. Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you so so so so much, Lizzie. I'll never be able to repay you."

"Bye, Marie. Take care," she said and slammed the door shut.

In an instant Marie rolled the window down. "Did my brother just say that he loved you?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat, and her head was spinning. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Aye, I believe he did."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Hugs & Kisses to my reviewers! I love you guys and appreciate all of your comments. As always hang in there with me and please review!

**Chapter 16**

_"And I love you too, Lizzie."_

Lizzie had felt a great many things; wonder, excitement, joy, and fear rolled all into one huge emotional ball. It loomed over her; threatening to swallow her up like an avalanche.

Her heart was still pounding as she watched the cab drive away with Marie safely on her way home. With lightning speed she entered her flat to inform her mother and Frankie where she was going to be. But as she quickly took the steps down from her building, her mind had been racing.

He had said the words. It had been in a very offhanded way and surely he'd been distracted. But still he said the words; in a shop full of customers and in front of his sister, no less.

As she made to enter the chip shop Lizzie had no idea what to do or what to say. She didn't even know if she was ready for those words just yet.

Patrick's eyes met hers as she entered and just the sight of him in charge at the front counter made her pulse quicken. His powerful presence gave him an air of unfamiliarity. It was an odd feeling, really; almost like he was a stranger to her again. She'd never seen him in action before today and just to see him in control, handling customer after customer with ease impressed her. His confident stature exuded authority. He gave Lizzie a very brief, grateful smile but his attention was drawn quickly back to the patron before him.

Pleasantly she turned to the people seated at the tables to inquire if they needed anything else. Patrick tended busily to the neverending queue. So it went, for the next couple of hours side by side they worked cooperatively, tending to every customer's needs. As she tended to her former duties she felt like she'd never quit Marie's shop at all. Except that she'd never worked alongside Patrick. She felt exhilarated and confused. Those had been very different circumstances then and she'd felt threatened at the time by the fact that he was her boss. In just a matter of a few weeks things had changed so much. She had quit because of him and now as she stole another glance at his handsome face, admiring how caring he was as he helped each customer, she realized that she was in love with him. For more reasons than she could even say, she loved him and her heart swelled at the fact that he loved her too. It was scary, and it was wonderful, and it was overwhelming.

Of course the doubts plagued her.

As she pulled the ginger from the small refrigerator, she couldn't help trying to make eye contact with him but his eyes stayed impossibly focused on the customer he was busy with. Or while clearing a table she tried to will his eyes to hers but to no avail. Then when Lizzie retrieved some fish and chips from the warmer, she "accidentally" bumped him and even then he barely acknowledged her.

Yes, there were many doubts. Still she continued the tasks and gave assistance wherever needed. She told herself that he was a businessman and that he was professional in his work. He was not allowing himself to be distracted and was only dealing with her on a professional level. _Of course that was it._

Many times she could feel his eyes on her when she wiped tables or delivered food orders to the people at the tables. How could she escape the weight of his magnetic stare when she'd collected the menus? But as she looked up at him he would look away. It was very troublesome.

_Maybe he didn't mean it. He regretted saying it._

It didn't matter, she told herself. Now that Lizzie was clear about her own feelings it really didn't matter. If he didn't mean to say it right at that moment that didn't mean he never would. _Did it? _

He'd practically moved mountains to be with her. She couldn't deny it if she wanted to. Lizzie was in love with him. Although she'd vowed never to again, she trusted him with her heart. Despite the annoying doubts that her mind gave her, her heart was sure that things would work out in the end.

Things had finally quieted down out front and the queue had dwindled down to about two people so Lizzie took the opportunity to fill some ketchup bottles. Purposefully she grasped the bottle from each of the tables and as she made her way to the back her eyes once again drifted to Patrick's face.

And once again, he didn't face her.

With a sigh she entered the back room and set the three ketchup bottles on the back table. One by one she unscrewed the tops and refilled the bottles with the thick red sauce. _It didn't matter_, she told herself. _It didn't matt_-

"I meant what I said."

His voice startled her and an overflow of ketchup spilled onto her hand. Quickly she reached for a towel, wiping the mess from her fingers and cleaning off the mouth of the bottle. Her heart began to pound again and she found she didn't have the courage to look up at him. Silently she twisted the tops back onto the bottles.

"Lizzie..."

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and the heat from the closeness of his body. At that moment she felt paralyzed.

"Maybe it's too soon," he breathed, his hands falling gently on her shoulders. "And it didn't come out right and it wasn't the perfect time or place to say it. But it's still true."

He turned her to face him and he stood before her like a rock- tall and unmoving. She could see the raw emotion there in his eyes and all her doubts seemed to wash away.

Lizzie opened her mouth but all that came out was, "I-"

He shook his head then and said, "No, you don't have to say anything."

Strong arms enveloped her into a bear hug. Long and tight he held her as though she might run away or slip through his fingers. His voice was husky with emotion. "Thank you for staying and helping."

Gratefully she melted into his embrace losing herself to the sensation of his fingers stroking her hair and the muscular bliss of his body. Patrick loved her and that was all that mattered. Happy tears flooded her eyes and she couldn't stop her hands from reaching up to his face or her lips from kissing him.

She pulled from him finally, their foreheads still touching and her eyes met his. The words came out in a throaty whisper. "Patrick...I love you."

The profoundness of her declaration struck Patrick like a bolt of lightning. He hadn't expected her to say it and now that she had he was completely bowled over. The expression of shock, joy, and relief melded together onto Patrick's face. Overcome by emotion he leaned down to kiss her...

"That was so bloody sweet!"

Lizzie's and Patrick's heads snapped up to face the owner of the voice.

Cindy stood there, her girlish blue eyes shining at the stunned pair. Her lips were curved into a smile and her eyes were glazed over with tears. "Oh...my God, that was beautiful," she said wiping at her eyes. "Well, I guess you lovebirds can leave. Marie left a message on my machine," Cindy informed them speaking a million miles a minute. "I hope she's alright. Poor thing limping around all day on a sprained ankle! Sounds like she had a bad day. But I'll tell you, mine was bloody awful!"

* * *

Patrick was scared. He'd never been so scared in his whole life. 

He stood at Marie's door hardly knowing how he got there.

Lizzie had said that she loved him.

It scared him to death.

Absently he knocked on Marie's door, calling out to her.

"Come in, Patrick, it's open."

He opened the door and found his sister comfortably seated on her couch watching television with her feet resting up on her coffee table, a bag of ice on her ankle and sipping from a glass of wine.

She smiled as she looked up at her brother. "My hero! Come give your sister a hug and grab yourself a beer."

"No thanks, Marie. I've gotta get back to work. Just came to check on you."

"I'm doing better, Patrick. Thanks to you and Lizzie. See, I've got my wine and my ankle's not throbbing anymore." She noticed the flustered look on his face. "What about you? You look like hell," she laughed. "Was it that bad over there?"

"No. Thank God Lizzie was there." He turned his eyes to Marie's carpet and sighed. "Lizzie...er...she told me she loved me."

Marie's smile turned to a wide toothy grin until she observed the disturbed expression affixed to his face. "Well, I can see why you're so upset," she laughed. She picked up the tv remote and shut off the television then took a sip of her wine. "Sure, you tell a woman you love her and then she says she loves you back. You have every right to be upset," she mocked.

"Marie-" Patrick interrupted.

Her laughing expression turned serious. "Correct me if I'm wrong but you haven't said those words since Annabel." Patrick didn't look at her.

His face was serious and he turned his eyes to hers. "It slipped out." He paused for a moment. "It came out so naturally. I hadn't planned on saying that to her...not yet. I love her, Marie. She stayed and helped. Just having her there by my side, it was amazing. God, how I love her..." he stopped for a moment. "And yet I was too scared. I could barely face her."

"I'm so happy for you two, Patrick. Why can't you be happy?"

With a sigh he moved closer to her. "You don't understand, Marie. It's real now."

Marie furrowed her eyebrows. "It's always been real, Patrick."

Patrick shook his head, his eyes were lost on the ocean waves. "I don't think I can do this."

"What?!"

"Marie, I thought that out of everybody _you_ would understand," he told his sister, his eyes begging for discernment.

Marie set her wine glass on her coffee table and shook her head. "What is it that you expect me to understand?"

"I've lost all the people that I've been close to. Mum, Dad, Nana...Annabel. Thank God I still have you."

"Patrick-"

"I just can't go through it again, Marie. I can't," he confessed, his voice just above a whisper.

"Nothing is going to happen to Lizzie, Patrick. Think about her- how _she_ feels. Do you think it was easy for her to say those words to you?"

"I never wanted to hurt her."

Her expression turned visibly angry. "Think for a moment, Patrick, what you've put Lizzie through. She trusts you."

"I can't, Marie...I can't deal with this right now. I have to go..." He turned towards the door.

"Go and talk to her. She'll understand that you're scared."

He stopped before reaching the door, shaking his head. "I can't see Lizzie right now." He opened the door and glanced back at his sister. "Bye, Marie," he said, his voice laced with heartache.

_God_, she thought, _he sounded miserable_. "Patrick," she called out, her voice commanding, hoping that she could summon him right back like when they were children. Then there was the horrible sound of defeat as the door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

"Hello Patrick, it's Lizzie again. I'm just wondering what's going on because I haven't heard from you in days." Her voice sounded sad and frustrated. "I miss you. Call me." 

Patrick snapped his mobile phone shut. He'd already listened to that message three times.

He could hardly sleep. He barely ate. He missed her terribly.

As he stared blankly at the computer screen before him, he couldn't help remind himself that what he was feeling would only be a fraction of what the loss would be if she were really gone.

But she wasn't. Lizzie was still there, flesh and blood, within reach.

Patrick hated himself. He hated being scared; being weak. He hated the pain he was causing Lizzie. He hated the awful torment his heart was feeling at being apart from her. It had been over a week since they'd said I love you to each other.

Focusing his attention on the e-mail in front of him, he shook his head, trying to snap out of it. Automatically he reached for his cigarettes, pulling one out. Quickly he placed it in his mouth, lit it up, and inhaled, allowing the himself the slight comfort.

Lizzie hadn't tried to call him today at work or on his mobile phone. He hated to think that she'd given up. But hadn't he given up already?

"Patrick?" Margaret's voice came over the intercom interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah, go ahead, Margaret."

"Marie's on line 1."

"Thanks," he replied with dread, releasing the intercom button and quickly pressed the flashing red one on the telephone. "Hi Marie."

"Right. Have ya called Lizzie yet?"

Patrick heaved a long sigh and took another puff of his cigarette. "Marie, how many times are you going to call to ask me that? What is this, the seventh time today?"

"The eighth...and as many times as it takes, Patty."

He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Bye, Marie," he said and promptly hung up the phone. He already felt like a wretch and he was beyond the breaking point with Marie's interference. Quickly he turned his attention to the e-mail he had begun when he heard the musical ring tone on the mobile phone. It was Marie, of course, and he took the phone and placed it inside the bottom desk drawer, burying it beneath a pile of folders.

Since the night he left Marie's flat, his days and nights were one long achy blur. He felt numb and the whole world appeared a dull black and white.

Lizzie loved him.

It was real. It was a gift that he was consciously pushing away with both hands.

Somehow he seemed unable to pull himself out of his self-imposed punishment because every time he tried, there were always painful reminders; ghosts at every turn, never letting him forget the excruciating sadness that had been the loss of his wife. The anguish that had followed hung over him like a dark cloud.

He remembered once considering joining a monastery. Thankfully Gretchen had talked him out of that one.

Gretchen.

He'd never feared losing her. He wasn't in love with her.

Lizzie.

Sweet Lizzie. She didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve this. He could picture the sad expression on her face; the disappointment in her beautiful brown eyes.

Day after day he fell deeper into this black hole of depression. The loss ate at him like a leech, sucking the life from him. Soon Patrick acceptingly settled into the familiar ache that was his life.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Lizzie was no fool. She knew when she was being avoided. It was true she'd only ever been in one other relationship in her life but anyone could see that this was not how a normal courtship progressed.

She'd told him that she loved him. She felt so foolish now.

Slowly her walls began to rebuild once again. Every time Margaret told her that he was busy, every time he didn't answer his mobile phone, wall after wall returned, taller and stronger than before.

Incredibly, buried deep in her depression she was struck by inspiration.

Scribbling furiously in a notebook she let out all of her pain, her heartache. She missed Patrick. It was more painful than Davey's physical abuse and stung more than his wicked words.

It was limbo.

There had been no goodbye.

Writing filled the hole that Patrick had left. Every time she felt the urge to call him she put pen to paper instead. For hours at a time she'd sit at the dining table and write. Page after page she filled, with a ferocity of a hurricane, the inspiration flowed.

Lizzie hadn't done so much writing since she'd written to Frankie. As she sat almost in a trance, the pen spilled the words onto the page effortlessly until her fingers began to cramp.

Nell shook her head at the sight of her daughter, her voice low so that Lizzie wouldn't hear. "She's been like that for days."

Marie furrowed her eyebrows looking at Lizzie curiously. "What's she writing?"

"God only knows. She hasn't done this since she was a wee child. Her dad and I used to fight and she would lock herself in her room and write for hours."

Marie's heart went out to Lizzie. She wanted to go to Patrick and shake some sense into him. She wanted to tell him to pull his head out of his ass.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone. I'm going to take Frankie for some ice cream," Nell told her, grabbing her coat. Before she headed to Frankie's room she stopped Marie. "By the way, tell that brother of yers to pull his head out his ass."

With an amused smirk and a nod she waved goodbye to Frankie and Nell and tentatively approached Lizzie at the table. She wasn't sure if Lizzie knew she was there.

"Hello, Lizzie."

Startled, Lizzie's eyes snapped up to Marie's face. Automatically she snapped her notebook shut. "Hi Marie." Lizzie popped out of her chair and filled her teakettle.

"How are you?" Marie asked.

Marie's sympathetic blue eyes tore into her, the liquid blue reminded her of tiny raindrops. Lizzie felt tears begin to form. She tried to blink them away and sniffled. "Me? I'm fine." She set the teakettle on the burner and turned the knob. "How are you?"

"You haven't come by the shop."

Lizzie shook her head emphatically, closing her eyes. "I'm not going to be that woman, Marie." She leaned her back up against the sink and crossed her arms.

Marie moved alongside her friend, standing elbow to elbow. "What woman, Lizzie?"

Her fingers wiped the threatening tears from her eyes. "I'm not going to be like that blond woman he'd avoided and burst into the shop looking for him, desperately like some kind of lunatic. That's not me."

Marie turned to face Lizzie and shook her head, laying a comforting hand on Lizzie's shoulder. "You could never be like Gretchen."

There were too many questions poking around in Lizzie's mind. They jabbed at her constantly like prickly thorns. She suppressed the urge to ask Marie. In truth she'd stopped herself from going into her shop several times for just that reason.

Day after day she'd gone about her routine, going to work, coming home, helping Frankie with homework, making dinner, and before she erupted into a pile of tears, she'd turn to her faithful notebook once again.

Marie turned her eyes to the notebook on the table and sat down. "What are you writing?"

Lizzie practically ran to it, clutching it possessively in her arms. "Oh, it's nothing."

A disbelieving look came across Marie's face. "Nothing, huh?"

"Nothing anyone would be interested in reading," Lizzie uttered, her eyes falling into a distant stare.

"A journal, heh?" Marie asked, not really expecting an answer.

It was silent for a long moment and Marie rose and pulled a chair out for Lizzie, gesturing for her to sit. Next she pulled two teacups from the cupboard and set them on the table. She observed Lizzie, who sat perfectly still, her arms still holding tightly to the notebook. "Listen, Lizzie…about Patrick-"

Lizzie interrupted, "Just tell me one thing, Marie; the truth."

Marie nodded.

"Is he seeing someone else?"

Her blue eyes flew open wide and she shook her head. "Of course not."

The teakettle whistled and Marie turned to shut it off, grabbing the teabags, a spoon, and some sugar cubes.

The painful curiosity was killing her and Lizzie opened her mouth to ask another question when Marie spoke again.

"Listen. Patrick just needs some time right now," she told Lizzie, settling herself down in the chair beside her.

A single tear fell from her eyes. "He told me he loved me, Marie. He said he meant it. It's been almost two weeks and he won't talk to me. Now I just don't know what to believe."

With a sigh, Marie dipped the teabag into a cup and dropped a couple of sugar cubes in and stirred. She pushed the cup to Lizzie and turned her eyes to hers. "He loves you alright..."

"Well he has a funny way of showing it!"

Marie had kept herself this long from getting involved. Hadn't she been involved all along? "Lizzie," she asked, dipping the teabag in her cup. She let out a long sigh. "Did Patrick ever tell you about Annabel?"

* * *

The boy waited anxiously as his friend delivered the note. He watched with intense, turquoise eyes as the brown-eyed beauty opened up the folded piece of paper. Her mouth fell open wide and she laughed out loud, sneering and showing off the note to her girlfriends seated beside her. 

The girl shook her head incredulously and shoved the piece of paper back into his friend's hand. At this, his friend only looked back at him and shrugged his shoulders, walking away from the giggling females.

Patrick's heart sunk. His face turned to a frown and he held back tears. He abruptly picked up his backpack and left the schoolyard.

Eleven-year-old Marie moved quickly to catch up to her younger brother. Having witnessed the whole event, she couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He wore his heart on his sleeve. And he never gave up.

"Patrick?" she called out to him, hoping that he would slow down.

The ten-year-old continued his pace silently.

Marie picked up her pace until she was finally by her brother's side. Panting, she asked, "Haven't you gotten the message yet?"

He stayed silent and stubbornly continued walking.

With a sigh, she stopped him and looked him in the eyes. "Annabel's rejected you about 150 times. Just…give…up."

He turned his turquoise eyes to his sister, his eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth was set in an angry line. "You'll see, Marie Connelly. As sure as I'm standing here I'm going to get Annabel to fall in love with me. And one day she's going to be my wife."

Patrick strode past his sister, his legs moving quickly to put as much distance between himself and his sibling as possible.

Marie sighed again as she watched her younger brother walk away. Patrick was very determined. Once he set his young mind on something he never quit. Marie shook her head and continued the long walk home.

* * *

His fingers gently traced the edge of the gilded frame. His eyes studied her beautiful face. Big brown eyes dominated her features, followed by high cheekbones and a nose that had a subtle point. Her hair was long and dark brown, the ends falling in wavy locks around her chest. 

As he gazed at the photo, he admired the way the soft white tulle of the veil lay against her bare shoulders; how glorious she looked in her strapless wedding gown.

And her rose-colored lips were curved into a perfect smile. Annabel's smile never changed. He'd treasured that smile ever since they were eight-years-old.

A single tear slid down Patrick's cheek as the image of him and his wife stared back at him. They were so young-barely nineteen. They were so in love.

Patrick barely recognized himself in the picture. Who was that young man all dressed up, his black bow tie sharply tied around his collar? His turquoise eyes so bright and full of life, filled with love and hope.

His finger wandered to the image of Annabel's face and he traced it tenderly as though just the touch would bring to life the young woman from the picture.

A lump formed in his throat as the memories of her death came flooding back to his mind. The grief hit him with the force of a freight train; powerful, fierce, unrelenting.

She was too young to die. How many times had he wished that it could've been him instead- that Annabel and their son could've lived?

Patrick shut his eyes, trying to deny the threatening onslaught of tears. He wanted to scream, wanted to know why he couldn't get past the paralyzing fear of loss that he had.

He laid back onto his pillow setting the picture frame on the nightstand.

Losing her- it hurt too much. The heartache was unthinkable and uncontrollable sobs racked his body, long and torturous…until sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

It was the perfect rose. 

With one hand Lizzie gently held the smooth green stem. Her finger gently brushed the ivory petals. The blooming rosebud seemed to embody their relationship; so tender, so fragile, the beauty of its petals opening and blossoming; giving birth to a new and deeper love.

"Is it alright if I leave early today, Maureen?" Lizzie requested, fondly lifting the bloom up to her nose.

Maureen's kind eyes fell upon the young woman with a smile. "Of course."

Lizzie smiled happily, her eyes shining. "Patrick's meeting me at my flat and I have a surprise for him."

"I'm just happy that the two of you have worked things out." Maureen told her, putting her gloves back on.

"Me too," Lizzie squeaked. Quickly she moved to get her purse and left the bakery, yelling back another quick thanks to her boss.

She couldn't wipe the smile from her face if she tried. Her feet couldn't carry her quickly enough. The day was beautiful and the sun felt warm on her face. She loved Patrick and the anticipation of seeing him was thrilling. Carefully she brought the flower up to her nose again, inhaling its sweet fragrance, her senses reeling.

Her foot stepped out into the street to cross when the blaring howl of an ambulance flooded her ears. Startled, her attention snapped to the opposite direction.

It was a fraction of a second when the jarring bellow of a car honking turned her attention back to where she was walking.

She never saw it coming and as the dairy van struck Lizzie her perfect rose fell to the ground.

The roaring sound of the siren came closer and closer…

"Lizzie!" Patrick called out, startling awake. He'd broken out in a cold sweat, and his heart was pounding so loud and so strong that he thought it might burst from his chest. Trying to catch his breath his eyes darted desperately around his room in an attempt to get his bearings.

The shrill sound of the siren faded into the distance as Patrick realized that it was only a nightmare.

Lizzie wasn't really dead. And he was being a fool.

He knew now what he had to do.

* * *

A/N: Thanks as always to you good people for your comments & reviews! Just so that you know, there really is a method to my madness. Please stay with me and feel free to comment! 


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Lizzie startled awake to a loud knocking at the door. She shut her eyes tight hoping that it would stop and cuddled into her blankets. To her dismay, the troublesome knocking continued. She rolled over in her bed and with bleary eyes squinted at the clock, noticing that it was past midnight. _Good God_, she thought groggily, _who could that be_ _at this hour? Marie?_ Lizzie didn't dare to hope otherwise. With mussed hair and pajamas she rushed to the front door so her son or mother would not awaken.

She stood before the door and wiped the sleep from her eyes. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Lizzie."

Inwardly she gasped at the sound of his voice. She rubbed her eyes again and even pinched herself. _Could it really be him?_ Was she dreaming?

"Please open the door, Lizzie. I need to talk to you."

Lizzie felt her heart begin to pound in her chest; the troubled sound of his voice brought tears to her eyes. She opened the door and found Patrick standing there panting as though he'd been running for miles. She gaped at the sight of him. Dressed in jogging pants and a sweatshirt, he'd looked like he'd just gotten out of bed. But it was more than that, his face was full of anguish, his turquoise eyes full of shame, and a single tear ran down his cheek.

"What are…?" She stopped mid sentence, immediately affected by his expression. Words failed her as Patrick's eyes bore into hers. There was so much she wanted to ask, so much to say. The past weeks without him had been dreadful and the realization of that came back at her full force. Wide awake now, she bit her lip, holding threatening tears at bay.

"I couldn't help it, Lizzie. I had to see you." His voice was low and he turned his eyes to the ground as though it would give him the right words. He was silent then and slowly looked up to her eyes again.

It struck Lizzie as odd- like déjà vu. For a long moment she stood there just studying him, weighing the consequences in her mind. There was an explosive battle taking place between her heart and her mind. The silence was deafening and the pleading look in his eyes tore at her heart. Finally, she opened the door, gesturing for him to enter.

His soul yearned for reprieve and Patrick gratefully stepped forward into her flat. Lizzie silently led him in to the kitchen and flipped on the light. She reached for the teakettle, poured water in, and set it on the burner.

Finally her eyes met his and she broke the awkward silence. "It's late."

He approached her, trying to read her expression. "I really hope it isn't, Lizzie-"

She cut in, "It's past midnight." Her back settled up against the sink and she crossed her arms in a defensive motion.

"Right," he replied nodding. "So it is," he paused, carefully considering his words. With a sigh, his eyes fixed on hers; torment and sorrow locked in their depths. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I am so... sorry."

Her face turned to the side, focusing on the clock on the wall. _Sorry_. It was overpowering, it was monumental. It was a single word. Just hearing him say it shook her from the inside out. It was like he lit the fuse setting off an emotional bomb and suddenly she burst into tears.

He'd caused those tears and his heart was breaking. Patrick reached his hand out to her but she stood unresponsive. Like raindrops from the sky the tears fell freely and she tried unsuccessfully to blink them back. Automatically her fingers moved to wipe them away.

It was too much to see her crying. He wanted to hold and comfort her. His lips wanted to kiss away the tears. The regret consumed him and he couldn't take it. Tears of remorse escaped his eyes. He stood before her, his eyes pleading. "I'm so sorry, Lizzie." He took her hands in his lifting them to his lips. "I will be sorry for the rest of my life for hurting you these past two weeks."

Lizzie was a mess of sniffles and tears, her body trembling as she listened to him beg for her forgiveness. Two of the longest weeks of her life had passed. In his absence he'd left a gaping hole. Her mind screamed warnings of danger, like a great big sign glowing brightly inside her head. Her heart couldn't help wonder if she'd ever see him again. It seemed like some kind of miracle that he was here now and she could hardly believe that she wasn't still dreaming.

"I was so scared, Lizzie. My wife died many years ago and I was so afraid to lose you that I stayed away… but now I realize I don't care about death or dying. I just want you with me now…for as long as-"

Her hands reached up to his head and urgently she pulled his lips to hers. Happiness filled her as he responded, his lips firm but gentle; strong arms encircling her and squeezing her body to his so blissfully tight she almost couldn't breathe. His masculine scent filled her senses and the smooth feel of his touch unlocked the pain that had held her heart prisoner. She'd missed everything about him.

_Two weeks, what did it matter_, she thought. _As long as he was here now_…

Lost in the passion of their kiss, their hearts beat as one again. Contentedly they reveled in the comfort of their closeness.

"Yor baack?"

Their heads snapped up to face her pajama-clad son. Her nine-and-a-half-year-old had spoken, and even though his words weren't clearly enunciated they were understandable. Wiping tears away, Lizzie smiled at him and noticed the pleased expression her son wore gazing back at the two of them. Lizzie and Patrick parted from their embrace and the boy approached Patrick tentatively.

"You stayng?"

Patrick looked to Lizzie and smiled, his eyes becoming glassy. He breathed a happy sigh and faced the boy, searching for approval. "Yes, Frankie. This time for good."

Frankie's eyes studied Patrick's face carefully. The nearly ten-year-old boy looked more like a wise old man with his contemplative expression. It was barely a moment before his lips formed a smile. Silently he thrust himself into Patrick's arms.

Touched by her son's gesture Lizzie's arms enveloped Patrick and Frankie, the three engaging in an emotional group hug.

Frankie was the first to pull away. With a victorious smile he faced his mother. His hands moved quickly as he signed to her, "I told you." He covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.

Lizzie laughed and pulled her son into another embrace, kissing him on top of the head.

She looked into his eyes and said, "So you did. Now go back to sleep."

A smile stayed permanently affixed to Patrick's face. "Good night, Frankie." Patrick couldn't resist drawing Lizzie back into his arms as they watched the boy skip victoriously back to his bedroom.

She cuddled in close to Patrick, losing herself in the warmth of his embrace and nestled her face into his shoulder. Gently he set one finger on her chin, bringing her eyes to his.

"I love you, Lizzie Morrison," he told her, his voice husky with emotion. As he gazed into the mesmerizing depths of her eyes, he truly felt the meaning of his words.

To Lizzie there was no moment sweeter than this. More tears began to fall from her eyes as she replied, "I love you, too."

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter, but I felt like it really needed to stand alone. Also, Lizzie's deja vu was from the first chapter of "Dreams of You", of course a much more expanded version :) Please review! 


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Things had not gone quite according to plan; Lizzie's plan.

Her hair was dripping wet, pasted unattractively to the back of her head; her new outfit was soaked and as she and Patrick rushed in to his beach house with grocery bags in tow, she'd gotten an ominous feeling. A roll of thunder roared so loud she swore that they were going to get struck by lightning.

She was dressed in Patrick's oversized cotton t-shirt, and as she made herself at home in his large kitchen, heating up the oil in the frying pan; Lizzie felt rather like a drowned rat.

_No matter_, she thought. Just because the tire blew out on the road on the way over, and the storm had showered them with icy-cold rain didn't mean that their nice romantic evening was ruined.

Patrick had announced that he had a surprise for her and she couldn't wait.

However, Lizzie was nervous.

There was nothing like being celibate for eight and a half years to make a woman feel like a virgin again, she thought with a smirk. Then when he set his turquoise eyes on her with that smoldering gaze it made her feel like a nervous schoolgirl. It had been thrilling, though; just being enveloped within a single one of his kisses set her body on fire.

After two weeks of restaurants, movies, and long walks on the beach, Lizzie felt completely ready to spend some alone time- just her and Patrick.

Her hand reached for the package of steaks inside the grocery bag when Patrick snuck up behind her. His lips delightfully grazed her neck halting her movement. A towel was draped around his neck, and wearing a clean, dry shirt and sweatpants, he'd looked and smelled freshly showered.

Her chest began to rise and fall at the thrill of being alone with him. The gentle touch of his fingers on her shoulders thrust her into an exciting anticipation of what was to come.

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her ear as he spoke, her eyes shutting to fully experience the delicious sensation.

"Are you sure you don't mind cooking, Lizzie?"

Her eyes snapped open and she willed herself to continue her task at hand, nodding her head affirmatively. "Of course." She turned her eyes up to his handsome face. "It was my idea, but it was nice of you to offer."

He'd offered alright but in truth she wasn't sure about Patrick's cooking skills so she decided that it might be a better idea for her to cook for him…at least this time.

Judging by the looks of the interior of the beach house she felt confident with her decision. Tastefully decorated with its black leather couches and matching tables, it was every bit masculine-as well as it should be. A bachelor pad to the hilt; it was tidy, well-kept and decorated with many black and white framed photographs Patrick had taken over the years. She was impressed not only with his photographs but how homey the whole place felt to her. The ocean views from the various windows took her breath away.

There was a great aquarium in the living room that was home to many colorful fish. She could just imagine her son's admiring eyes gazing endlessly at the small sea creatures.

Yes, Lizzie was impressed. Although on the momentous car ride over she couldn't quite bring herself to ask if his kitchen was stocked with cooking utensils, let alone milk or eggs.

"I'm not really handy in the kitchen but there is one thing I make very well."

Lizzie turned to him with a raised eyebrow. _Hmmmm. I wonder what that could be_. "Oh, and what's that?"

His hands gently braced her shoulders and she nearly trembled from his touch. "Chicken enchiladas."

_Oh_. Mexican food was not quite the answer she expected but she smiled trying to picture him fussing around the kitchen.

"I am handy with the grill," he told her wrapping his hands around her waist, although she couldn't help be self-conscious wearing Patrick's shirt now rising above her mid thigh. "I can barbecue just about anything…even those steaks."

A roar of thunder rolled through the house, startling Lizzie, and she jumped into his comforting embrace. The sound of heavy rain pounded the roof.

"Well, not tonight," she told him, kissing him on the nose and hesitantly backed away. She didn't dare kiss him on the lips. The dizzying scent of his cologne remained fresh on her nose. Lizzie mentally cleared it from her mind._ Dinner still had to be made and i__t had to be perfect_. She set her hands to another grocery bag untying the handles when everything went black.

The thundering crashes continued as Lizzie and Patrick stood right where they were in complete darkness.

"Patrick? This is an electric stove."

"Right," Patrick replied with a sigh.

She couldn't see his face, but could barely make out a shadowy figure as he rummaged through drawers and cupboards. "Please tell me you have some candles."

He laughed a deep, throaty laugh. "Real men don't use candles, Lizzie," he informed her, shutting a drawer.

"What do _real_ men use, Patrick?" she asked amusedly, slightly irritated that this blackout was threatening to ruin her perfect dinner.

A bright, round light shone in her face and she blinked from it. "Flashlights." He handed her one and shone the one in his hands towards the hallway. "I'm going to go check the circuit breaker."

* * *

A lantern sat on the coffee table, dimly lighting the room. Patrick had built a blazing fire and was poking around it, settling the wood. The gentle snapping and crackling noises filled the silence. 

He turned to Lizzie who was seated comfortably on the couch, sipping a glass of wine; her face showing disappointment.

"It's alright, Lizzie. I'm sure the power will come back anytime. Meanwhile I've got pizza coming."

She tried to lift her frown. "I know, but what about the food?"

"I put it in the freezer. I'm sure it won't go bad for awhile."

One finger twirled some strands of hair and she smiled at the sight of him kneeling by the fire, his face lit up with an irresistible glow. Even in the dim firelight her eyes settled on the muscular outline of his back, noticeable through his shirt. She shook her head to clear the tempting image. "No, you're right. The fire's beautiful."

He got up and sat beside her on the couch. "I'm disappointed too. I had a brilliant surprise for you."

She turned her eyes to his and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Her body became all tingly with his contact. "Had?"

"No, I mean, I still do, but it won't do us a lot of good without electricity."

Puzzling thoughts ran through her head as she tried to guess what on earth it could possibly be. For what she had in mind no electricity was required. "What is it?" she asked placing her hand on his hand and squeezing it gently.

He let out a sigh but smiled that same smile that made her weak in the knees. "Just stay here," he told her and disappeared into the darkness with the flashlight into one of the back rooms.

Minutes had passed and Lizzie had taken to daydreaming, having nearly finished off the rest of her wine when he returned with a large brown paper sack. A small smile rested on his face and he set the sack down next to the lantern.

"Well there were two surprises. I had this all planned out," he told her disappointedly.

Her head spun as she contemplated what surprises he possibly could've had for her in the large bag. Her insides warmed excitedly at the thought. She leaned forward trying to peek. "What is it?"

"No peeking," he told her firmly and reached into the sack. He sat down beside her and pulled out a couple of dvd's.

Her eyes flew open wide at the thought. _What kind of movies are those_, she wondered, her face taking on a furious blush.

He turned the front cover of the movies to face her, watching with an expectant smile.

"The Three Stooges," Lizzie squinted to read the titles in the dim light. Her heart sunk. _How sweet_, she thought. During one of their dates she'd told him how she'd loved watching "The Three Stooges". _Unromantic_, she thought_, but very sweet_.

"Yeah, I'd gone to three different video stores to find those, and now we can't even bloody watch them."

She couldn't resist and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a big kiss. His lips responded tenderly and she could feel the desire begin to mount. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes looking suggestively into his.

Leaning forward he escaped her embrace, leaving her to fall against the cushions of the couch. "There's one more."

Sitting back upright she faced him eagerly, watching as he pulled the other surprise from the sack. With a victorious smile he held the box up. "Surprise!"

Instantly she recognized it. "Scrabble," she said with amusement.

"Right," he said setting the game down on the table. "I thought that after dinner we could settle down on the couch and watch some Three Stooges and then after have a dirty game of Scrabble."

_Well,_ she thought, _the dirty game of Scrabble did appeal_. Laying warm by the fire, setting down word after suggestive word, his turquoise eyes staring back at her with a seductive, playful glint; well who knew what could happen? Her insides began to burn just thinking about it. In an instant, her spirits lifted.

"It's all ruined now."

She shook her head at his disappointed expression. "Why?"

"We can't watch the movies and we don't have nearly enough light for the board game. Now how am I supposed to entertain you?"

In confused awe she watched him, cocking her head to the side. She wondered how on earth he could've said that with a straight face. "I'm… easily entertained," she offered. "It doesn't take much." _Indeed_.

Patrick smiled and pecked her on the cheek. "You're right. We'll just lay here and cuddle and talk. It'll be perfect."

A crash of thunder blasted through the house.

Cuddle and talk. _Did he really just say that?_

_No dirty game of Scrabble_.

A sigh escaped her as he lay his head down on her lap, propping his feet up on the other side of the sofa. A satisfied smile graced his lips and his eyes turned up to hers. "Isn't this great? I love you, Lizzie."

"I love you, too, Patrick," she replied, running fingers around his face, her thumb caressing his strong jaw line, her fingers rubbing against the soft stubble of his cheek. Her mind raced, trying to summon up all of her most flirtatious moves. She leaned down to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

He returned the kiss softly and sighed. Turning his body towards the fire, he nestled his head into her lap like it was a pillow. "This is nice."

Since she could no longer see his face, her fingers took to running up and down his back. Slowly but surely her fingers trailed their way down lower and lower, lingering dangerously on the very edge of his lower back.

"Right there," he murmured.

Her heart began to pound as she pressed her fingers in harder, circling around his back, massaging and kneading; his sexy voice emitting the appropriate ooh's and aah's.

"Now just give it a scratch, will ya?"

Another crash of thunder came through, appropriately reflecting her mood.

Irritated, she complied as he continued to direct her to various other locations on his upper back and shoulders. He sighed again and let out a long, loud yawn.

"I could just go to sleep right now-"

Something inside her snapped. "For God's sake!"

He turned to face her innocently. "What? What's wrong, Lizzie?"

She felt close to tears as his eyes curiously met hers. "This just…it's not what I expected. You going to sleep!"

"Well," he began softly, "what is it that you expected, Lizzie?"

_Oh God. Was he really going to make her say it??_ As much as she wanted to say the words they refused to leave her lips. Instead she stayed silent as another ominous crash of thunder bellowed through the beach house; this time lightning lit up the large windows.

He sat up beside her with a serious expression. "What is it, Lizzie? You can tell me."

She breathed a frustrated sigh and shook her head. "Nothing," she replied sadly, her right leg crossing on top of the left and her arms crossed defensively. Her face felt hot to the touch, and even though she should've been content just sitting there with him, somehow she wasn't. "It's just that we're here and we're all alone…" her voice trailed off, and she found that as much as she wanted to she just couldn't finish that sentence.

A look of understanding came over his face. His mouth was open wide in surprise and it only served to cause her blush to run deeper.

"Oh Lizzie, did you think that I brought you here so we could…" his voice trailed off as he noticed her gaze turn uncomfortably to the ceiling. He shook his head and continued as though he were thinking out loud. "So all along you thought that I had some kind of plan of seduction for you?"

Her eyes closed in humiliation and she nodded. She'd never been so embarrassed in her whole life.

Patrick drew closer to her, taking her hands in his. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. It's not too late, you know."

She shook her head. "No, Patrick. This whole evening just hasn't turned out how I'd hoped. The mood is completely ruined."

His arms wrapped around her in a big, bear hug and he gently stroked her hair. "You know, Lizzie, when you agreed to finally go out with me, I decided right then and there that I had to do anything it took to earn your trust. The only way I could do that was to leave everything up to you."

_It made sense_, she thought. She nodded her head and let herself relax in the warmth of his embrace. The feeling of embarrassment began to fade and she pulled away from him.

"Can I use your bog?" She wanted to splash some cool water on her face_. Or take a cold shower… _

A warm smile came across his lips then and he pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. "Sure… but use the one in my room. The other's in need of repair."

"Right," she replied, accepting the flashlight from him. She made her way slowly down the hallway and wished that they could begin this whole bloody evening over. What had she been thinking?

Her mouth fell open wide as she opened the door and stepped in.

Dozens of candles, large and small lit up the room; its many dancing lights flickering and titillating her. She drew a breath at the romantic setting and as her bare feet stepped she felt a soft silkiness tickling the bottoms. She turned her flashlight to the carpeted floor to reveal countless red rose petals from the doorway to the bed. Captivated, her legs followed the trail of the rose petals ending on his canopied queen-sized bed. Dozens of petals were sprinkled enticingly across the bedspread.

_He'd planned the whole thing._

Her heart began to melt and a blush flooded her cheeks once again. Patrick really did love her, Lizzie was certain of that.

A note with a long-stemmed red rose lay gently in the middle.

_The only way I could earn your trust was to leave everything up to you_, she remembered him say. He'd made that point clear to her with his actions. She really did love this man. It was her move now, she thought, setting the flashlight down on the nightstand. Her heart began to pound as she set her eyes back to the note and the rose.

A heartfelt tear fell down her cheek as she reached for them.

It had in fact been a near impossibility for Patrick. God, how he wanted her. For the past hour he'd endured many nonsexual, unpleasant thoughts and images. Resisting Lizzie had been like saying no to chocolate cake. He'd told the truth that it was up to her. He wasn't expecting anything, but he sure had his hopes. As he watched her read the note, her soft body clad in his t-shirt; tempting curves revealed in the fabric; he was like a tiger ready to pounce. But still he only watched as she ran the rosebud ever so gently along the smooth contour of her cheek.

Her body stiffened as she felt the softness of his lips on her neck. With note and rose in hand she turned her head toward him. With great strength Patrick turned her body to face him, his eyes were lit with desire and his lips claimed hers with urgency. Her arms fell to his waist, and she lost herself in the heaven of his lips. Effortlessly he scooped her up in his arms, his eyes never leaving hers and as her fingers reached around his neck the note and the rose fell gracefully to the floor…

* * *

**A/N**: For anybody who was wondering, I didn't think the content of the note needed to be revealed. Sorry! I'm currently working with the end of the final chapter...there are three chapters left! I still have a ways to go as far as editing. Thanks for hanging in there with me as always. Please review! 


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Kisses & Hugs for your feedback. I love you guys! I always love to hear from you so please review!

**Chapter 20**

"I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Patrick sat beside the grassy mound, his eyes settled on the gray granite headstone before him. In one hand he held a single pink carnation. He was silent for a moment and let his other hand run along the etched lettering, his fingers carefully tracing each letter.

_In Loving Memory _

_Annabel Elizabeth Connelly _

_October 28, 1966- September 5, 1986_

A gentle breeze nipped at his neck. "I can't believe I'm actually saying that…to you," he chuckled, his gaze falling to the freshly cut grass. "I've fallen in love again. Her name is Lizzie. You would like her."

He was quiet again and not a sound was to be heard except for the gentle chirping of birds in a nearby tree. Patrick heaved a long sigh.

"This is difficult, Annabel. I always thought it would be just you and me… forever. Do you remember when I sat behind you when we were nine and I used to pull your hair in class?" he chuckled. "Or how I gave you that drawing of your cat on your twelfth birthday, and I think it was then when you were finally able to stand the sight of me." His voice became very soft. "Or how I kissed you for the first time in the empty field behind the supermarket?" He shook his head, trying to pull himself from his memories. "In nineteen years I haven't been able to let you go. I guess I never had a reason to…till now. I love you and part of me always will. That will never change. But Lizzie… she's the one. She's the one I'm meant to be with."

Patrick drew a deep breath as if he were expecting a bolt of lightning to strike him at that very moment. Instead he was overcome by a feeling of comfort that drizzled over him like a warm spring shower. It was powerful yet fleeting and he shuddered from the emotional release. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

A grateful smile crossed his lips and he eyed the name on her headstone as though he were face to face with his deceased wife."Thank you."

At that moment he caught sight of the pink carnation in his hand. "Oh, by the way, as always, this is for you- your favorite flower." Gently he set it down leaning the delicate stem against the monument.

With another long sigh he got to his feet, his eyes never leaving the headstone. "Annabel…Time to say goodbye."

* * *

Her face was like stone; hard and cold. Her eyes were daggers, sharp, brown, and ready to attack at any given moment. All at once Patrick was thrust back in time three months prior when he'd sat at that very same table in Lizzie's flat like a wild animal being watched by threatened prey. 

The drags on her cigarette were slow and deliberate. Clearly she was enjoying this. Just to sit there and watch this man squirm brought a somewhat amused glint to her eye.

Patrick was in desperate need of the older woman's approval. And Nell knew it.

His only saving grace was the nearly ten-year-old boy who sat beside her. _Thank God for Frankie_. Frankie had sat there through Patrick's speech, nodding and smiling his approval, bouncing up and down in his chair barely able to contain himself.

Nell, however, remained unimpressed.

Patrick couldn't remember the last time in his life he'd felt this nervous. In his career, he'd been threatened to be turned down, burned down, and shut down. Daunting as those experiences had been, nothing compared to this. His happiness depended on the approval of one woman- Lizzie's mother. As Nell sat expressionless before him, he could feel his stomach twisting in knots and a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

It seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke.

"So let me get this straight," she began, putting out the rest of the cigarette and twisting it in the ashtray. "First, you kiss my daughter just before you are about to become engaged to another woman..."

Patrick swallowed hard. He wondered if this might come up.

"Then once Lizzie _finally_ finds the courage to tell you that she loves you, you ignore her for the following two weeks…"

_Ouch. Well, when you put it that way_…Reflexively he reached into his empty pocket for his cigarettes. He even considered asking Nell for one but quickly dismissed that thought. Instead he cleared his throat, wiped his forehead, and willed himself to stay calm.

"And now," she continued coolly, one eyebrow raised, "you're asking if I'll give you my blessing to marry her?"

Frankie's head snapped back and forth between his grandmother and Patrick as he watched the verbal match taking place like an intense game of tennis.

"I love her, Nell and I've realized I don't ever want to live without her."

"Aye, you say that, Patrick, and the words come out so easily, but Lizzie's been through enough. She needs a man who's going to be there for her…" she paused for a moment and her gaze turned to her grandson. "And for Frankie." She turned her eyes back to Patrick. "I'm not so sure if you're that man…"

Frankie gaped at his grandmother and nudged her slightly.

Patrick had to admit to himself that they hadn't gotten off to the best start. He had suspected that she might not be as forgiving as her daughter. "Nell, I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am that man."

"What if I say no?" she challenged.

A confident smile overcame his face and his turquoise eyes were filled with mischief. "I never give up."

She cut in, shaking her head. "I think it's just too soon. Maybe a little more time-"

"Time," he uttered, shaking his head in turn. There were a thousand thoughts floating around inside his mind like a swarm of bees, and for just a quick moment he had to close his eyes and sort them. "Before my wife passed away I thought we had all the time in the world." His gaze turned downward and his voice became quiet. "We had one year as man and wife. And then I lost her." A lump had formed in his throat.

Her expression softened slightly as she noticed the tears beginning to form in Patrick's eyes.

"I would've given my soul to have her around for just one more day. When she died I thought that I'd never love again but then after nineteen long years of barely living your daughter came along. She brought me back to life. Nell, I don't know how many days, or weeks, or years I'll have with Lizzie, but I don't want to waste any more time. If Lizzie will have me, with your approval, of course, I'll never take another day for granted. I will love your daughter with all my heart until the day I die..." He wiped the stray tear that had fallen and his eyes turned back to Nell's.

She sat there quietly with eyebrows furrowed. Her eyes were focused on the wall behind him and she appeared to be lost in thought.

The silence was killing him. "Nell?"

When her eyes snapped up to meet his, they were glazed with tears. "Call me Ma."

* * *

"If you don't want anyone to read it, then bloody put it away!" 

Lizzie shook her head at her mother, rushing around the kitchen, pulling her purse onto her shoulder. "No, Ma. I've already told Frankie and now I'm telling you to leave it alone. If I don't leave now I'm going to be late for work. So please just don't touch it."

"It's Saturday, Lizzie. Why are you working today?"

"Because Maureen asked me as a favor and it's only for the morning," she replied, still rushing about like a chicken with her head cut off. "Mother? Don't touch it," she said again, noticing Nell's gaze upon her notebook.

She gave her a look that made Nell feel more like the daughter than the mother. Quickly Lizzie rushed to her coat and hurried out the door.

Nell's eyes fell upon the composition book sitting temptingly in the middle of the dining room table. It was bad enough that her daughter wouldn't share what she'd written, but now it was even worse that she had to leave it there in plain view, almost taunting her.

An unnatural curiosity had developed and she could barely resist poking at it. _What was it anyway? A diary? What? What??_

For the next few hours Nell kept busy all over the flat; cleaning the bathroom, folding some laundry, but always wandering back to the kitchen to put on some tea or light up a cigarette.

And there it was- the blasted notebook. Standing there within arms reach of it she shut her eyes tightly as if she could will the hateful thing to disappear. Her eyes flew open and she cursed.

"For God's sake," she muttered. Her hand reached out to a drawer and pulled out a doily. Gingerly, she set out the lacy fabric and laid it right on top of the notebook, covering it.

She smiled at last. "Much better," she said. _Out of sight, out of mind_, she thought. Contentedly she hummed and went back to her laundry.

* * *

"Did you get it? Did you get it?" Nell nearly squealed to Patrick and Frankie as they walked in the front door. Her face was alight with excitement as she rushed the two males in. 

Patrick was carrying a large arrangement of roses that almost covered his face. "We got it alright," he replied, moving the flowers from his view and making eye contact with the boy. "Right, Frankie?"

Frankie's own face lit up as he nodded happily.

"Those are beautiful," Nell stated with a sneaky grin. But before Patrick could respond she spoke again. "Let's see it! Let's see it!" she demanded, rubbing her palms together in anticipation.

The older woman stood before the pair anxiously looking more like an impatient child.

Patrick turned to Frankie, blowing the roses away from his lips. "Show Nana, Frankie."

The nine-and-a-half-year-old smiled and pulled something from his pocket. In his palm sat a black velvet ring box. With a smile he lifted the top and his grandmother gushed over the delicate band.

Tears began to form in her eyes and she looked up at Patrick. "It's a beauty. She would be crazy to say no to that," she told him nodding and handed him the ring box. "Are you going to ask her tonight?"

"Aye," he said with a smile. "Wish me luck. Where should I put these?"

Nell pointed in the direction of the dining room table. "You don't need luck, Patrick."

She turned to Frankie who'd just grabbed a stack of books. "Are you ready for the library then, Frankie?" He responded with a quick nod and Nell called out, "We're leaving."

Before they opened the door, Patrick called out, "Thank you, N-. Ma."

Nell smiled to the man who'd captured her daughter's heart. In reply she simply nodded and she and Frankie walked out the door.

All alone in Lizzie's flat he stepped towards the table, setting the arrangement down right in the middle on top of a doily. But as he stepped back to admire the flowers he noticed the large vase did not sit perfectly flat. He removed the arrangement, pulling the notebook out and shoved it to the side, setting the vase on top of the doily. Taking a step back he nodded to himself, satisfied with its placement.

He took a seat at the table and pulled a card and pen from his coat pocket. For just a moment he sat quietly, pondering what to write. As he put the pen to the card, his elbow knocked the notebook over, turning his attention to the open pages and a pressed red rose that had fallen out of it.

The dried flower piqued his curiosity. One arm leaned over to pick the notebook and the rose back up when a few words on the page grabbed his attention. Minutes had passed and he found himself fully engrossed in the pages of Lizzie's words. It wasn't until the jarring sound of his mobile phone startled him, bringing him back to the present.

"Hello?" he answered into the small device, his attention still half focused on the page he was on. "Right, Eddie. I'll be there in an hour." Patrick snapped the notebook shut placing the flower back in it and quickly finished writing out Lizzie's card.

* * *

Lizzie unlocked the door and walked inside, calling out to her mother. It was quiet and she peeked inside the rooms to discover she was all alone. 

As she came around the corner to set her purse down the brilliant flash of color caught her attention. Her mouth dropped at the exquisite arrangement that had managed to occupy most of her table. The three dozen red long-stemmed roses sprinkled with baby's breath nearly took her breath away. Quickly she made her way to the kitchen, her mouth still hung open, and was in awe of the incredible bouquet that graced her table.

Her eyes found the card leaning against the vase and she couldn't wipe the smile from her lips. She pulled off her coat, hanging it on a chair, and brought her nose to the sweet fragrance of the flowers. Quickly she dropped into the chair and simply gazed at her name on the envelope written in Patrick's neat cursive. In a daze she held the card to her heart and breathed a happy sigh. Gingerly her fingers opened the envelope and she read the card inside.

_You are cordially invited to join me for dinner and a dirty game of Scrabble. Please be ready at 6:00pm sharp; a cab will be waiting to escort you._

_With Love, __Patrick._

Chills ran down her back, and a warm excitement filled her body at just reading his words. He was sending for her tonight and the thought of it made her toes curl.

She stole a glance at her watch. 12:30. There was time to prepare; possibly buy a new dress, even paint her nails. Lizzie stood up from the chair giving the arrangement one last whiff and excitedly set herself to getting ready.

In her bones she could feel it. Tonight was going to be a very special night.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

_"Dance?"_

Her insides had warmed at just the mention of the word. What was it about this man, she wondered, that completely disarmed her? Lizzie had felt delightfully carefree at that moment. It could've been her favorite tune filling her soul, releasing it from its heavy chains if only just for that instant. It could've been the beer, though she'd only been sipping; it had already loosened up her tense mood. Or, it could've been the powerful stare from the stranger's turquoise eyes that brought that unsettling, foreign feeling.

Why did she feel like a silly schoolgirl when he looked at her?

With all her might she tried to suppress the embarrassing blush that fought to take over her fair skin and smiled nervously.

"I never dance," she confessed.

His arm draped casually onto her chair and he angled himself closer to Lizzie.

"You'll have to this once. Frankie's made another bet."

Lizzie nodded. She didn't know whether to feel horrified or thankful to her son.

The stranger took her by surprise as he leaned in closer to her and the feel of his breath on her cheek sent alarming shivers through her body.

"Better watch him, I think it's becoming a bit of a habit."

The music played and she could feel the nervous anticipation building up inside her stomach. Beside the fact that she was worried about making a fool of herself out on the dance floor, just the thought of being close to this man made her heart do flips.

It was inevitable, she knew, and as he held his hand out to her, she couldn't escape his charming smile. And oddly, she didn't want to. Suddenly she couldn't pull the silly grin from her face. Lizzie took a breath and let her own hand fall acceptingly into his grasp. The stranger's grip was unnervingly powerful, yet pleasing as Lizzie's fingers laced into his; almost a perfect fit. For just that moment she stepped out of herself and let him lead her away…

He braced his arm firmly around her waist, with his other still in her grasp. Nervous, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder, reminding herself to breathe. She'd found him to be a caring and considerate dance partner. With ease the stranger initiated a couple of twirls. Lizzie hadn't minded because soon she was back again in the comfort of his arms.

Caught up in his gentle embrace, too many exciting, dangerous emotions flooded through her. As the singer's soft voice rang through the auditorium, Lizzie was lost; lost in a fantasy she could never have imagined. His hypnotic eyes seemed to take her in and swallow her up. The stranger's smile seduced her, pushing away the many doubtful thoughts from her head.

She didn't even know his name.

But as his warm gaze penetrated her defenses she began to experience that familiar feeling from so long ago. She never would've admitted to that feeling…until now.

_It was love._

Lizzie's attention snapped back to the present just as her cab pulled up into Patrick's driveway. It was a full half hour drive, but lost in her thoughts it felt more like seconds.

She moved to open her purse for cab fare when the driver interrupted.

"It's been taken care of."

"Thank you," she nodded with a smile and exited the cab. _Of course_. Patrick had become notorious for planning. She could hardly wait.

It was a cold, clear evening. It was peacefully silent except for the sounds of the ocean waves. A cool breeze nipped at her neck and Lizzie pulled her coat shut as she knocked on the door.

On the other side of the door Patrick took one last glance around to make sure everything was in place. He was nervous. The details of the evening had managed to occupy most of his attention, but as the hour drew nearer his nerves began to get the better of him.

Only hours before he'd thrown out his last pack of cigarettes. He didn't need them. But then he ended back at the trash can countless times in search of them…always walking away.

_What if she said no?_

That disturbing thought had occurred to him more times than he was comfortable with.

But when he opened the door the sight of her washed away all his fear.

"Hello," he greeted.

Her hair was down, curled slightly at the ends and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. To his surprise she had a brilliant glow about her.

Beautiful- that was the word that came to mind.

"Hello, Patrick," she answered, an impressed smile on her face.

As always her bewitching eyes grabbed him. He didn't lose sight though of her sweet smile as he led her in. His hands removed her coat to reveal a long burgundy dress that fell around her ankles. The slit came up to her mid thigh and the plunging neckline was much sexier than Lizzie's conservative style.

He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. His eyes appreciatively drank in the sight of her.

Lizzie nearly gasped as she walked in. Dressed sharply in a suit and tie, her handsome prince gazed lovingly at her, and the interior of his house took her breath away.

"It's amazing," she breathed, her eyes taking it all in.

Like glowing fireflies, dozens of candles lit up the dining area and living room. All sizes, large and small settled luminously on shelves, tables, and windowsills. The glittering sparkle of the many tapers reminded her of a fairy tale. In the corner a warm, blazing fire burned and soft music played from his stereo. Her hand held tightly to his as he led her to the seating area to an elegant table setting.

It was sensory overload; the romantic lighting from the candles, the sweet sounds of the music wafting through the room; the always tempting cologne that Patrick wore. But that wasn't all - there was also the promising aroma of a delicious feast, and the tingles that ran down her arm from Patrick's touch was the icing on the cake.

Caught up in the moment, her eyes met his and she reached for him, pulling him into a passionate kiss.

It would've been easy to stay like that with her, holding her soft body against his, savoring the taste of her lips but before they got carried away somehow Patrick managed to remind himself of his carefully laid plans.

He pulled away from her, trying not to lose himself in the desire of her eyes. "Hungry?"

Lizzie smiled seductively. _Not for food._

His eyebrow raised and he cleared his throat, gesturing to the place settings. "Dinner is served."

* * *

After a sumptuous dinner of steak and lobster, Lizzie took one more sip of her wine and gave him another kiss. "This was perfect, Patrick. Thank you." 

He raised his wine glass with a satisfied smile. The night wasn't over yet, he reminded himself. "To us."

Lizzie smiled happily, meeting his glass with a clink. After enjoying a lavish meal on a table decorated with a vase of fragrant roses and seated next to the man she was in love with, her heart couldn't be happier. "To us," she repeated and finished the wine in her goblet.

With some concern Patrick stood from the table, gently taking her wine glass from her and headed to the refrigerator to refill it. In his mind he was going to need all the help he could get.

Automatically she rose from the table taking the dirty dishes to the sink. Lizzie turned the water on and grabbed a soapy sponge. Busily she began rinsing the dishes.

His lips gently grazed the sensitive skin on her neck, nearly causing her to drop the plate in her hands.

"Leave them," he whispered.

Her eyes closed, savoring the tingly sensation of his lips having delightfully made their way back to her skin, now running baby kisses along her collarbone.

In a smooth quick movement he shut off the water. "You're much too beautiful to do dishes," he murmured, reaching for a towel and taking Lizzie's hands in his.

Her chest began to rise and fall and she felt ultra sensitive to his touch. Gingerly he took the towel and wiped the soap from her hands. It was a simple gesture but the slow and deliberate way he massaged the cloth between her fingers and palm gave her goosebumps.

His eyes met hers, and he lifted her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the soft skin of her knuckles. "Now, how about that game of Scrabble?"

The wine had made her giddy. Or maybe it was his suggestive tone. She giggled. "I've been looking forward to it all day."

With a smile, he grabbed her fresh glass of wine and led her to the living room. "Me too."

"I've been thinking of new words," she said flirtatiously as he gestured for her to sit on the sofa, but the light from the fire and candles was not nearly bright enough to read the board. She squinted in the dim light and noticed that some tiles had already been set out.

"What's this? You've already started?"

"Thought I'd give us a head start," he replied, now leaning over the board and lighting large candles on both sides.

She looked at him, now sitting beside her on the couch and nudged him. "That's cheat…"

Her eyes did a double take and turned back to the board, the words now readable by the light from the candles.

The word "marry" was set out horizontally on the board, and just below the "m" vertically an "e" was placed there to make the word "me."

A giggle escaped her lips and she nudged him again. "Very cute, Patrick."

His face was serious as death as he set the ring box down underneath the words, the box making a small thud.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the black velvet ring box and chills ran down her back. _He wasn't joking_.

She was speechless as he moved to kneel before her, lifting the tiny box and setting it in the palm of his hand. She could feel a blush flooding her cheeks. Dumbstruck, her mouth hung open as she watched him lift up the top.

_This was definitely for real._

Her eyes flew open wide as they met the beauty of the jewel in his hand. Frozen in position she sat, gaping, her eyes bounced back and forth from her handsome lover's face to the incredible offering.

On top of the band of shiny gold sat a breathtaking trio of round diamonds. Her eyes nearly blinked from the bright sparkles of the stones. Lizzie was momentarily stunned by its magnificence.

But it wasn't just the ring that left her in a state of wonder.

Patrick's heart was pounding in his chest. A small bead of sweat began to form at the top of his forehead. She'd thought he was kidding. As her gaze settled on the ring, he willed himself to stay calm and find the right words.

"Lizzie," he began, his voice slightly shaky, "years ago when my wife passed away it was like… they buried my heart along with her." She was deathly silent and it made him very nervous. He continued, trying to steady his trembling hand. "Year after year passed and I felt dead inside. I went about my life; breathing, eating, sleeping, working… It was as though my soul had forgotten how to feel anything but pain and sadness. I was stuck. But when I met you and Frankie, I remembered. I remembered what it was like to feel happy again. I remembered what it was like to feel love. You're the _one_, Lizzie. You are the one who brought me back to life."

Tears began to trickle from her eyes and Patrick took that as a good sign.

The ring looked tiny in his fingers as he pulled it from the box, holding it up, offering it to her. "Lizzie Morrison, will you marry me?"

She couldn't believe this was happening. His words had pierced her soul and the tears fell steadily. Some might say that they'd been together barely three months and that it was too soon. In Lizzie's mind she didn't see the sense in waiting to find out if it was right when she already knew that it was.

Her heart had revealed it during their first dance.

Still he looked at her, waiting, every muscle in his body tense, his eyes fearful. _Oh God_, he prayed, _please say yes_.

A smile broke out in her face and she nodded happily. "Yes," she whispered in between sobs.

A look of relief washed over Patrick's face and he smiled happily, hoping that he'd heard her right. Gently he took her hand and slid the band onto her slender ring finger.

Lizzie didn't even stop to admire the new ring on her hand. She threw herself into his embrace and held to him tightly, overcome by tears and sniffles. Her heart was filled with joy. Never again did she want to spend another day without him.

Patrick's fingers stroked the silky softness of her hair. He was trying to catch his breath and braced her against him in fear that she might change her mind and run away from him. _No_, he thought. _I'll never let you go_.

"I love you, Lizzie," he breathed and his lips pressed a firm kiss to the silky hair covering her ear. Overcome by emotion, he shuddered with relief. His voice was slightly shaky when he spoke. "As sure as I'm sitting here, Lizzie, for the rest of our lives I promise to make you the happiest woman on earth."

She pulled from him then, glancing towards her gorgeous engagement ring with a smile and looked deeply into his eyes. "I already am."

* * *

A/N: One chapter to go! Hope you enjoyed this one...as always, please review! 


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dear Frankie or any of its original characters as well as any original dialogue from the movie. Also, I have taken liberties with the story.**

**Chapter 22**

**Epilogue**

"That's not how it's going to end, is it?" he cried incredulously, shutting the notebook in his hands.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow and turned her gaze to Patrick. "That's right," she answered calmly, reaching a bath towel and folding it into a nice, neat square.

Patrick stood up from their bed, his eyes darting around the room. "C'mon, Lizzie, where's the next notebook?"

She shook her head. "That's it, Patrick. There is no more."

He gaped at her, his face a picture of frustration. "Let me get this straight; after I give you this memorable kiss, I leave, wave one last goodbye to Frankie, then for all anyone knows disappear into the darkness never to be seen or heard from again?"

She nodded. "Hmm mm," she replied matter-of-factly, reaching another towel from the pile of laundry on the bed and folding it in half across her lap.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Lizzie shook her head and rubbed the aching spot on her lower back. Patrick quickly took notice and hopped behind her on the bed, running strong soothing fingers into her flesh.

A smile of relief came across her face as his fingers worked their usual magic.

"But, Lizzie," he continued, moving his fingers slowly upward. "It took you two years to finish it. What the hell kind of ending is that?"

She rolled her eyes, wishing that he would drop it already. "I'll tell you what, Patrick. I'll run out to the store, buy you your own notebook, and you can write your very own story…and guess what, you can end it however you bloody want."

Unfazed by her reply he moved his fingers to her shoulders and lightly planted a kiss on her neck. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he noticed that Lizzie dropped the towel she was folding. He'd long since learned there was no use in arguing. Patrick had his own way of dealing with conflict. He brushed his lips gently against her ear. "But what about us, Lizzie?"

She froze and her relaxed expression soon turned to alarm.

"All that we've been through together; our wedding, Marie and Ally's wedding, Frankie speaking…" he paused as he sat beside her, laying his hand on her swollen abdomen. "…the baby."

Lizzie moved her hand on top of Patrick's, her breathing became shallow, and she laced her fingers into his. "I can't talk about this right now," she said in between breaths. "My water just broke."

Patrick sprung from the bed like someone lit a fire under his behind and looked at Lizzie almost in tears. His mouth fell open and his breathing began to resemble Lizzie's.

"The baby's coming?"

Her hand fell against her lower back again as she smiled up at Patrick. "The baby's coming."

It was exactly one week until her due date but in his mind, Patrick already felt well prepared. Diligently he and Lizzie attended weeks of Lamaze classes. He even took parenting classes Lizzie insisted he didn't need. So now he felt ready. Lizzie's bag was packed and ready to go sitting by the doorway. He rushed to the baby's room to grab the diaper bag which was already well stocked with newborn diapers, wipes, five changes of clothes, and ointment.

Patrick reminded himself to stay calm and entered Frankie's room finding the boy sitting at his desk in front of his window writing. He tapped the boy on the shoulder until Frankie looked up at him, tearing his attention away from his letter to Catriona.

His hands motioned quickly as he signed to Frankie. "It's time."

An excited smile lit up the young boy's face and he rushed to tell his nana.

Mentally Patrick ran down the list of things he needed as he headed to the garage.

Wallet…check

Mobile phone…check

Diaper bag…check

Lizzie's bag…check

He opened up the door to their recently acquired minivan, placing the bags on the floor, and tightened the seatbelt around the car seat…again…check.

In a flash Frankie entered, taking his place in the back…Frankie…check.

With Lizzie's purse and her own purse hanging from her arm, Nell walked with Lizzie, leading her to the vehicle.

Ma…check

Lizzie…check.

He helped his very pregnant wife into the minivan. Before he shut the door his eyes settled on the glow of her face, the bags under her eyes, and the tired smile that she gave him. "You okay?" he asked.

Lizzie simply nodded, her mouth formed an o as she breathed.

For the millionth time Patrick was dumbstruck when he looked at her. He leaned in towards Lizzie and whispered in her ear. "You've never looked more beautiful."

Shivers ran down her body and she smiled, her heart swelling as she watched her husband enter the driver's seat and start the engine.

His palms were sweaty and his mind was reeling. He hoped that he appeared more confident than he felt. Patrick turned to her again and gave her a wink. "Let's go have a baby."

* * *

"How long has it been?" Ally asked, sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. 

Marie furrowed her brows and snapped impatiently, "It's five minutes later than the last time ya bloody asked."

Nell shifted restlessly in her chair and felt in desperate need of a cigarette. "How long has it been, Marie?"

Marie's eyes turned to the older woman seated beside her, her tone completely changed as she looked at her watch. "It's been seven hours, thirty-nine minutes, and…" she paused to let out a sigh, "twenty-nine seconds."

Frankie lifted his eyes from the book and looked to his nana, now standing in front of him, stretching her legs.

"I'm going out to have a cigarette, Frankie. Do you want to go outside with me?"

"No thaanks," he replied, lifting his book to show her he was completely content.

All eyes turned to Patrick as he emerged from the room. Four pairs of eyes waited anxiously for his news.

"No baby yet…"

Everyone groaned.

"How is she doing?" Nell asked, concerned.

Patrick nodded and continued, "Lizzie and the baby are doing fine," he informed them, making sure that Frankie was aware his mother was okay. "She's still in the second stage of labor and they are encouraging her to walk to ease the pain from the contractions."

"So that's it?" Nell raised her hands up in an exaggerated motion. She really needed that cigarette.

He nodded again. "For now. We don't know how much longer," he sighed, stretching his arms out. "I'll come back when I have more news," he finished and turned back towards the room.

Oblivious to the buzz of the well wishes, he headed back to the labor room and prayed to God that everything would turn out well. As he entered the room, the rapid thumping sound of the baby's heartbeat and the incessant beeping from the monitors filled his ears. His wife lay there in the hospital bed, her eyes shut tight, brows furrowed from the discomfort of the contractions. The nurse smiled encouragingly to Patrick and unhooked Lizzie from the equipment.

The other half of his heart lay there in that hospital bed. All the books and hours spent in classes hadn't prepared him for the fear he was feeling inside. He felt it in the pit of his stomach. It took only one thing to go terribly wrong…

Lizzie's eyes snapped open and she reached for Patrick as he entered and just that one gesture helped ease his anxiety.

A contraction had passed and now that it was over she smiled with relief, her eyes were filled with love. When she'd given birth to Frankie twelve years ago it had been a very different experience altogether. Her mother had been fussing about the room, annoying the nurses and doctor while Davey, indifferent to Lizzie's discomfort, sat in a chair, his eyes glued to the football game on television.

As the love of her life held her hand in his she sat up trying awkwardly to lift her self up from the bed. "I'm ready for my walk."

An idea popped into Patrick's mind and with a smile he let go of Lizzie's hand to talk to the nurse.

Confused, Lizzie shook her head, but before she could wonder what her husband was whispering to the nurse about another contraction hit her, not as strong as the last one, but not light either.

The nurse smiled kindly and nodded to Patrick, leaving them alone in the room and shutting the door behind her.

The rhythm of Lizzie's breathing slowed slightly and she noticed that look on his face. He was up to something; she just knew it as he headed towards her, his turquoise eyes piercing hers. "What was that all about?"

"Dance?"

It felt like déjà vu, and warm fuzzies tickled her insides. Here she was sitting in the hospital bed, a rather unflattering hospital gown draped over her now large figure, beads of sweat forming atop her brow, with a huge belly ready to burst at any moment. She blinked and turned her gaze to his, unsure whether he was serious. "I'm a bloody whale, Patrick."

He was silent and wore that same charming smile as though he were looking at Miss Universe, taking Lizzie's hand in his. Carefully he helped her down from the bed to the middle of the room lifting her hand up to his lips setting a kiss on the soft skin of her knuckles. Her heart began to pound at his romantic gesture. Even after two years of marriage he still set her pulse racing.

With a frown she looked down at the huge bump between their bodies. Patrick set her arms around his shoulders, drawing her into him as close as possible until his hands fell onto her lower back to that troublesome aching spot.

Patrick led her in a slow dance, their bodies swaying. Tenderly he kissed her on top of her head and began to hum the tune to her favorite song. All at once she was transported to that time two years ago when they'd shared their first dance. At that moment, there were no monitors, no beeping, no bright lights blaring down on them, no hospital smell. There were only the two of them, their bodies moving together, their hearts beating as one. Her cheek lay against his shoulder and she held tightly to him, inhaling the irresistible scent that she loved.

The gentle sound of Patrick's humming wafted through the air. Lizzie's eyes fell closed as she swayed in time with his body reveling in the loving comfort of his arms. It seemed like so long ago that he'd only been a stranger and held her in his arms. She lifted her head and lost herself in the bluish green depths of his eyes, amazed that they could still turn her to mush. A smile crossed her lips as she relived that warm feeling.

"I love you, Lizzie," Patrick whispered.

Her smile grew wider and she opened her mouth to respond when the jab of a contraction struck from her lower back and she stiffened in his embrace. Patrick's hands responded quickly as his nimble fingers massaged the cramping. He continued to hum the tune softly as he clenched his fists into her back, easing the painful cramps and as the contraction made its way to her abdomen Lizzie took to blowing steady puffs of air.

Less than thirty seconds had passed, a smile of relief appeared on her face as the contraction dissipated, and Patrick separated her body from his, engaging her in a playful twirl. Lizzie spun gracefully back into his embrace, careful not to bump her bulging abdomen into his body. "I love you too, Patrick."

Her expression turned to a grimace as she was struck all too soon by another disturbing contraction. They stopped for a moment as Lizzie tried to communicate words in between breaths. "Get the doctor, Patrick... It's time."

* * *

"That's it, Lizzie. Just one more push." 

Patrick's heart was pounding as he and Lizzie let out breaths simultaneously. Right there by her side he kissed her on her cheek, ignoring the pain from the excruciating grip she had on his hand. "That's it, now. You're doing great. One more, Lizzie. You can do it," he encouraged.

Sweat was dripping from her face and with teeth clenched she took a long deep breath and pushed with all her might.

Silence.

He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath when he heard the very gentle sound of a cry. Patrick's mouth fell open and in shock he looked at Lizzie's relieved face. He squeezed her hand and left her side to see the tiny being at the other end of the umbilical cord.

The doctor quickly severed the cord and handed the baby to a nurse holding a towel.

"Congratulations, Lizzie and Patrick," he said to the happy couple, inspecting the baby's eyes, mouth, and body. "It looks like you have a healthy baby girl."

The nurse promptly wiped the newborn clean and offered the bundle to Patrick, steadying his arms into a cradle position.

Patrick was in a daze as he looked down at the little one. He found himself mesmerized by the miracle he held in his arms. "Hello," he greeted softly. It was love at first sight as the baby looked back at him through eyes half open. "I'm your daddy." From the top of her wee little head to the tips of her tiny toes she was perfect. His heart was overflowing as he let her petite fingers grip around his own. Unstoppable tears welled in his eyes. Carefully he stepped towards his exhausted wife and with nervous hands he moved the tiny being to Lizzie's chest.

He was a father, he kept telling himself. _It was for real_. The baby he'd just held in his arms was really his. _She was healthy. She was alive._ _It was really happening_. Patrick had waited many years for this and although he'd grieved the loss of a son he never knew, he thanked God with all his heart and soul for this blessing. He thanked God for Lizzie and Frankie, for all the people in his life that he loved.

"I love you, Lizzie," he told her again, planting a kiss on her cheek.

And as he watched the tender exchange from mother to newborn, more tears began to fall.

* * *

Tiny fingers wrapped around his finger and as he looked down at her he could hardly believe the small wonder in his arms was real. Lizzie and Patrick fondly looked on as Frankie held his baby sister. 

"Hi Katie," he said to the little one slowly. His eyes took in the sight of the light brown fuzz on top of her head and the faint bluish-green color of her eyes. "I'm Frankie, your big brother."

* * *

_Acknowledgements_

_Many thanks to Marie, my best friend and sister-in-law, for her love and support; my mother, Nell, who's endless patience and support has seen me through the worst of times; my son, Frankie, for his love, strength, courage, and young wisdom which continue to inspire me everyday._

_Finally, I'd like to dedicate this to Patrick. Without his encouragement this book would not have been possible. He is my knight, my husband, friend, dedicated father, and everything I could ever want or hope for. He is the One who rescued me from my past and myself. For this and so much more, I will always love you, Patrick. _

_L.C._

* * *

**The End**

**A/N: Thanks so much to those who've stuck with me, offering your kind words. You've truly inspired me! Also thanks to my best friend, Barb, who's been a sounding board for this story and offered helpful feedback. By the way, there really is such thing as the "labor dance" I ended up finding out online, after the fact. This story has meant so much to me and I hope that you have enjoyed it. As always, either negative or positive I would love to hear your feedback. Please review!**


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